


Reaching Eden

by azhiraz



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Japanese Culture, Sexual Experimentation, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 105,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azhiraz/pseuds/azhiraz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate universe very loosely based on FFX's Spirea & some of its characters, with an Asian flavor. Two people whose paths connect in a sensual world of courtesans & warriors, but is the distance between two hearts & minds even greater than the distance between their worlds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This unusual, odd crossover fan fiction story using Square Enix’s Final Fantasy X game characters arose from two things: A piece of music by Hooverphonic name ‘Eden’ and an idle list of favorite things with an Asian flavor, somewhat like Sei Shonagun's lists of favorite things in 'The Pillow Book': The cyber world of Spira from Square Enix's Final Fantasy, the CGIs of some of its inhabitants, including one named Tidus, The Film 'House of Flying Daggers', the martial art Aikido and Iaido, the classic works of Sun Tzu and The Perfumed Garden, the enchanting lyrics of Stevie Nick's Sable on Blonde and Nightbird, an awesomely mentally challenging story called the The Secret Shih Tan by Graham Masterson, the exquisite kimonos of Itchiku Kubota, the winter eagles that return to a certain spot near a river, and the wild green foothills in the author's home state.  
> Please heed that this is an idle fantasy written to amuse a friend on winter nights; there is no intent of any resemblance to any real person, especially the author; nor is there any intent of taking credit for other quotations, lyrics, or other such things created by other people: Square Enix owns Final Fantasy and its' characters; the demi-goddess Stevie Nicks owns Sable on Blonde and Nightbird lyrics, somewhat butchered and paraphrased; Graham Masterson owns the awesome story The Secret Shih Tan and of course, even a CGI could have stunt doubles in certain sordid scenes.  
> Please also be warned this story is not for the faint of heart; it does deal somewhat with sexual roles and there is a theme of explicit sexuality, adult situations, and violence; but hopefully, between the lines there will be glimpses of kinder things.

**Prologue**

What does the word Eden mean? To some, it means a return to innocence, where our God loves us, and we are carefree as children; to others, a place of delight and wonder; or a paradise found…or lost.

The unknown interstellar cartographer who entered the location coordinates in the Intergalactic Alliance Registry for the world known as Spirea to its inhabitants whimsically named it Eden, due to its near-inaccessibility. The irregular orbit of the planet brings it in proximity of a wormhole every 3rd solar orbit, and even then, not every pass is close enough.

If you enjoy the icy equations of space & time, the tilt of the spin axis of the planet can vary up to 15.3° over 3,000 years, leading to a marked erratic change in orbit. Contrast this to Earth’s rotational wobble: 23.5° over 26,000 years. Normally, planetary wobbles like this are found because of the irregular nature of the transit, because the orbit changes relative to our view. This change is noticeable enough that sometimes it delays or misses its transit in front of its home star. Scientists log the transits to determine the orbit.

Astronomers are still trying to explain why a planet tilts or moves out of alignment with its stars. There many theories, but the Galactic Alliance’s theory is that the wormhole nearby may actually be gravitationally bound to the home star in the system and exerting an influence, so the planet at times, is repelled vs. attracted.

The inhabitants of Spirea have accepted trade with the Alliance, but mistrustful, have not allowed free trade.   They are fiercely protective of their lands. Visitors are segregated; they see only see what Spirea wants them to see, the Spireans hiding behind elaborate walls of protocol; everything is inferred, implied, and if you step over the boundaries of their good manners, you will be politely ignored. The visiting trader’s version of Eden would be rights to untapped natural resources; but the imperial court in the capital worries that the traders will take over the planet, and they will live with a foot on the back of their collective necks until the precious resources are exhausted.

Spirea has existed for over a thousand orbits without outside contact; the dilution of pure Spirean blood is another point of concern with its people; it would be the emperor’s Eden if he could control the immigration of the rapacious, greedy traders, but he does not have the weapons to enforce his will; all he has is intrigue, honor, and swords, and after 22 orbits, he is beginning to doubt his ability to hide the truth from the traders much longer.

One disillusioned, dissolute, banished bastard prince has a clear idea of his Eden; he wants out of the life he has been forced to endure for a decade as a temple trained consort to Spirea’s royals. He wishes desperately for his father to love him again, allow him a chance to prove he is not a complete waste, he can lead people. But most of all, he secretly longs for love, a match to him in all things, the stuff of the legends.

** Chapter One **

Tidus Tanaka noh Ishii was drunk. Not just a bit buzzed, or mildly inebriated, or a little tipsy from a bit of rice wine; he was full on primed, having been on a drinking jag for the last 6 hours with a small cavalcade of lords and warriors, all slurping soju, a distilled liquor made from rice wine; the locale they were in was known for a particularly strong brew, flavored with mountain water, which gave the liquor a distinct dry mineral finish. Everything was great, everything was fine, until he heard some petty piece of bitchery aimed at his father; he lost his temper, and shook the man until his teeth chattered, screaming his father had nothing to do with his view of things; he stalked off, or more rather staggered and began to blindly, viciously hack at bushes and branches in his path with his katana until hot tears dripped down his face in blind frustration. Eventually he reached a clearing and raised his bloodshot eyes to the night sky above his head.

For most of humanity's history, the night heavens with its glimmering constellations and faint rivers of galaxies wandering across the black-blue of night is a wondrous sight, man's oldest storybook and nature's monument to eternity. Gazing at the glittering universes scattered across the black velvet of night flung across the roof of the world make some feel they aren't alone; they are somehow comforted that there's something out there besides themselves; or someone like them, at least.

But Tidus felt no comfort. He saw nothing but a vast emptiness, reflected in his own soul; for a long time an unknown grief had been building within; nobody, not one single entity on the planet he dwelled in knew of this aching loneliness, the total sense of being deliberately disconnected a piece at a time from all things good, clean, and loved; or felt the absolute soul-numbing despair of being the isolated island he had become. He broke inside, a sudden swift pang and simply screamed primally, falling to the ground and weeping wildly as a boy, broken prayers and sentences weaving into a babble that slowly died to a whisper:

“Djevon, oh Djevon, I can't hold out any longer! Where is my bright blue heaven, Djevon? I 'm not a god, I'm just a man…do you think I stand to watch my cup of water dashed from my lips day after day? Where is my Eden? Why do you deny me? Answer me! What did I fail to do for you, why am I cursed? Will you ever let me lead in love instead of performing like a brute animal at a woman’s command? Must I bow my head to this arrogant indifference to my needs all my life? I cannot believe you made me the son of Akiro, just to bring me down to a whoring consort! Does it really matter who leads in love, Djevon? Does it? Please, Please, I just can’t take any more, I beg you. Set me free, let me be a man or let me die! Answer me!”

The night sky did not answer; neither did Djevon, but he heard the desperate prayer offered: _Of course you're cursed – just not quite the way you think you are,_ an amused quiet voice comforted, hidden in the faint breeze fanning the leaves, and the gentle chitter of the summer locusts.

Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii wearily dropped his head and sat in the warm darkness, pressing like a soft hand against his skin, alone but for a hundred thousand fireflies winking in the grass and bushes. It was an astonishing scene, utterly beautiful in its pristine wildness; every leaf seemed limned with cool phosphorescent light; the patterns of flashes winked with delicate complex designs and delighted the eye with the soft yellow green glow against deep summer green foliage. Now drained, he thought: _I have no voice left to call you; I hope you hear me calling without one…I place my life in your hands. I am willing to die, Djevon...I consent…_

Wrapped in the empty embrace of a summer night, he buried his face in his hands and let the hot tears drip again until he was exhausted and just laid there.

The despair had been taking root for months now, growing into a silent scream of terror in his night dreams, waking him in a cold sweat. He was alone. No one understood what was happening inside of him. His friends and acquaintances thought he was the luckiest bastard in the world, son of the imperial emperor in a kingdom that stretched across a continent and 2 chains of islands, wealthy, educated, and handsome as sin, his face and body bearing the regal temperament of his northern father and the near divine beauty of the southern race; tall, slim hipped, with smooth golden honey brown skin, astonishing deep cobalt blue eyes like the sea, but infinitely clearer, with an extravagant mane like the glory of the sun glowing with a deep luster that became its own crown on his bastard head.

 _I am the most wretched of men he thought,_ as he thought of the prison his life had become.

He was not free to marry, or to pursue an honorable career, other than the one he had been forced into. He was a Djevon-damned consort, by order of the emperor, and he hated it. With a wry grimace and poisonous glitter in his eyes he remembered that day so long ago, when he had been ordered to go to the temple in front of the whole court; he perversely decided back then he'd be the most sought-after, desired, and expensive consort that ever was; once he got over the shock that his own father had sent him away and into a life that ensured he would never be anything that any man would take seriously, he threw himself into the temple studies with a vengeance. The result was a celestially talented consort whose contract had been sold at age 16 at the unheard of price of a full talent of gold. Oh yes, he was the best bastard whoreson a father could have.

After a decade of orbits it still burned that his father thought he was worthless; he felt he had been denied a life as a true man. In a small defiance, he hacked his hair short, leaving a spiky mane that ruffled like eagle's feathers at his shoulders, disdaining the long groomed and braided tails of the imperial court. He pursued manly arts: he kept his battle skills sharp with daily practice with the guard, rode as a cavalry man in the voluntary militia, spent free time hunting, and tamed wild eagles for the hunt; therefore no could say of him he was effeminate or weak.

He looked for opportunities to lead men, but his hands had been cleverly tied there too; he had been sent to the city of Bevelle 3 summers ago, and now, this past year, was bound in a consort's contract to Lady Yuna, a daughter of a retired court lord whom ran an academy for warriors amongst his many lines of business and holdings. She was lovely as dawn, but there was no love between them, only what passed as love; or perhaps something more like power in the mind of one of them, at least.

Startled from his inner reflections by a screech owl, Tidus staggered back to the campfire, threw himself down on his camp bedroll and fell into a fitful sleep; he had to rest, because at dawn, they were going to attack; a band of pilfering wildmen was nothing to play with and he needed his wits. And so, Djevon let him sleep and pursued the fulfillment of his prayer.


	2. Chapter 2

Thankfully, stars are not just the blessing to the night sky of a single world. That same evening, another pair of eyes were observing the heavens also, and not surprisingly, an aching loneliness over the vagaries of love, but with far less angst than a prince-turned-consort, as there was complete trust in the heart; all would be well, if she just could just be patient enough to wait for that partner the universe had in store for her, instead of being afraid it would never come and rushing into a relationship that was doomed from the start, as she just done this past spring.

Tarja Romanova crinkled her eyes as she caught a shooting star and wished: _Wish I may, wish I might, wish on a shooting star tonight! Ok, I know it’s childish, buy hey, God, it's just you and me here on this rock tonight. I wish…I wish I knew what real love was; I'd give anything for minute of real love with man, just one minute of real connection. I am so tired of screwing things up; but I just don't see why I have to pretend to be weaker than my partner; isn't there anyone out there that needs me to be strong for them? Why do they always call me a bitch when I don't fall for the B.S.? Do look like I am B.S. deficient? I'm about ready to give up!_

She enjoyed her view of the stars for a while longer, her back against a boulder in the dusty summer dark until she heard someone turn up their car speakers with the latest hit. She climbed off her perch and started to make her way back to the campfire. She had come with a group of classmates to camp at a world heritage site in California called Painted Rock while on summer break. It was an interesting place, despite the despoiled artifacts; they had planned on hiking and taking photos for a day, then barbequing in the evening. They were all studying for the government services exam in August and hoped they'd be candidates. Tarja was not the smartest in the group, but she didn't panic in tight situations, plus she had one talent that was useful: She was gifted in martial arts.

A protégé of her sensei, her skills were honed with over a decade of experience, started by a teenage obsession with Bruce Lee. She also had recently taken up Parkour, a stunt-like way of movement over obstacles, that suited her unique personality. She was currently studying under an Aikido master, and the two skills meshed well together, much to the amusement of the current sensei and much more to the dismay of the now-ex-boyfriend. She reflected on the situation with an ascerbic attitude, shaking her head at the memories, then snorting lightly at particular points.

His posturing as 'the man of the household' after he moved in had rapidly irritated her and had become a matter of hostility between them. In the last month they were together, he had been so totally emotionally unavailable, it was like living with a sociopath. In retrospect, she finally saw he had no intentions of ever giving her the relationship that she wanted. He had decided from the start she just someone to enjoy right now, a pleasant plaything that only deserved the bare minimum of attention and affection to keep her hooked.

_…Like I'm supposed to exist on crumbs, when I need a full meal!_ Tarja thought with a wry twist to her lips; _why did I stay so long? I must be a sucker for green eyes and great abs…he DID have a great body, but I never got why he was always nitpicking at mine - I'm not THAT bad, am I, God?_

She looked down at herself, remembering his criticisms of her thick legs when she worked out, the pressure to dye her hair blonde, get a tattoo that said "John's Plaything", even to add a cup size to her breasts via surgery; the barrage of negative commentary disguised as ‘suggestions’ had driven a wedge between them until she just exploded one day and told him if he didn't like her as she was, then play Dr. Frankenstein with someone else. He lashed back with the reason that he was only trying to make her the best she could be and if she couldn't take the heat, then get out of the kitchen. Upon which she frankly replied: "You want the best for me, but only as YOU see it!" The startled man saw he had been exposed, his motives pegged to a T by a woman whose mind ran like a smooth motor, not the broken engine he so typically preyed upon; he left with all speed, leaving a debris of unmatched socks and unpaid bills for Tarja to clean up.

In truth, the man had little to improve upon; Tarja's body was as well-honed as her skills, a fusion of Russian and American blood; her face was a smooth oval, delicate cheekbones setting off well marked brows, smoothly curving as the Japanese katanas she lovingly handled in her Iaido classes; her eyes were her best feature, beautifully tinted in a cool crystal blue with distinct lavender undertones; other, more amorous lovers had likened them to a certain rock star's eyes, or the gemstone tanzanite. A silky fringe of dark lashes gave them a false sense of shyness, until one received a direct look, which could be clear as dawn or sparkling with sarcasm. Her legs, indeed, her entire body, was far from the 'thick' that had left the last lover's lips; creamy brown tanned skin clothed a well-knit frame, lushly padded as a woman's body should be in the right places, the breasts a perfect shallow curve of a wine glass, a narrow waist with just the right hint of a visible line of muscle running vertically down, as if to point to a lovely flare of hips. In a way the loveliness of her body was a deception; her sensei had once described her to another teacher as a lioness in the savannah, all glossy and smooth on the surface with masses of hard muscle underneath.

_Perfect_ , Djevon agreed. _Come with me, I have what you need...and what needs you…_

As she clambered down the rough pathway to the ground, a faintly glowing firefly caught her eye; a bit surprised, she saw a patch of color illuminated on the rock – _A petroglyph!_ She excitedly thought, and distracted from her careful path back to the safety of the distant campsite, she turned to it. The moonlight dimly illuminated the slight protrusion in the rock wall and she could make out an outline of a spiraling circle with curious turns inside of it. Her fingers began to trace the design and oddly, the firefly stayed where it was; as she wondered why it did not move, gravity shifted with a sickening lurch; the spiral faintly glowed yellow green, then faded before her frightened eyes.

Tarja's first thought was an earthquake, but there was no sound, no rumbling megatons of moving rock and earth; she wildly looked about her, her eyes taking in a blurring landscape; she pressed herself onto the rock for protection, now looking up at the sky for any sign of an explosion, her next logical reason that her mind could grasp. With horror, she saw the stars swirl as if in a cesspool of glitter, then they blotted out; she felt herself falling, she screamed and kicked her way as if through thick honey, but it was useless. She was caught; she struggled until blackness overtook her, flooding her skull with welcome oblivion.

The hand of Djevon was gentle and the gate between the worlds gently laid her down in a patch of soft grass growing in the remains of a temple on Mount Gazgaret on the world of Spirea; it was also in the season of early summer and birdsong awoke the displaced woman from Earth, disorienting her at first; but she quickly discovered her mistake as she tried to stand, and nearly fell, due to the slight difference in gravity. The sky was a brighter blue than Earth; she felt slightly dizzy, and kept trying to take larger gulps of air, which made her dizzier. It didn't occur to her for about an hour that the mix of oxygen to other gases here were different. She tried to breathe more shallowly and soon found she could stand and move without stumbling, if she just stepped a little more lightly.

She made her way around the little clearing, noting the crumbling stones of walls and remains of what seemed like an altar, burnt black, but old and cold. She sat on a wall, looked around her and realized she was not anywhere she recognized; she felt a rising panic as she examined possibilities and concluded she was either dumped in the mountains as bad joke, or someone had kidnapped her, then left her here. She theorized that the dizziness could have been drug-induced

– _Didn't Jack give her a beer from his cooler?_ She quelled rising panic with making a plan. _OK, find a path, down this mountain. Find water. Look for tire tracks. Watch out for people, it might be someone I don't want to meet. Take stock of what tools you have. Oh, great…Flashlight, matches, granola bar, bandanna, pocket knife. Not much, but better than nothing…Let's see what's around here, maybe something I can use…maybe if look over the side, I might see a cabin, or a gas station…_

The look over the side showed only steep glens and pretty white streams, no civilization. She started to note differences in natural growth, the wild creatures and even the very dirt itself. _Wherever I am, this is good earth! OHH! Eagles!_ She delightedly thought, her eyes following a pair of black eagles flying in tandem on a draft through steep glen of trees with needles like the pine, but again a touch different – longer, more black than green, stirring in the cool breeze with a clear resinous scent that she inhaled with pleasure.

The pleasure was spoiled by a short scream behind her, and she turned about, only to see a group of men, clad in rags or mismatched bits of clothing, all oddly and primitively armed to the teeth, with one of them bearing a small creature in his arms, an obvious sacrifice for the altar. She at first tried not to panic at being seen, holding her hands out and smiling, but they would have none of it – she was on sacred ground and as man, they strode forward, drawing weapons to kill the defiler of their holy ground. She didn't understand the words they cried, but the faces she knew too well.

Tarja wildly jerked her head about to look for an escape route and saw one. On the left, there was a gap in the crumbling walls; she darted through it and sprinted for all she was worth down the path behind the men; a pair were sent running after her, but she was a troublesome prey, as she changed direction, and seemed to skip through the changing landscape of the craggy path with a sureness of foot that soon left them disconcerted and gasping for breath. However they persisted, as the order was death; and death came swiftly. It came in the form of an arrow, singing in the sweet mountain air and landing with a solid thump in the neck of the first wild-man hunter behind Tarja; mistakenly, she ran towards the source, then startled, she threw herself flat as another arrow came whistling up to her; soon a sortie of 6 men came into view, one of them with a great bow almost as high as himself, all neatly clad in travelling armor and wielding simple primitive weapons, just bows and swords, with knives stuck in waistbands. Another arrow took out the 2nd wild man hunting her, and as the bowman- sniper paused to ensure his target was hit, she rolled, regained her feet and began to run back up the path; she was deeply frightened, as she it finally hit her that she was not on Earth, she was caught in the middle of an ambush, she was on neither side, and both wanted her dead.

The chase was on in earnest as they slowly but surely caught up with her farther up the steep mountain path; of course, it had been much easier to run down the path than up, and the slight differences in the gravity and the air soon became large; she soon struggled to keep moving, stumbling into trees and breath became ragged, as her body could not wholly adjust yet to the new mix of oxygen and nitrogen flooding her bloodstream; they cornered her on the small pass, where the path was close to the edge of the mount, a lookout that gave a glimpse into the dizzying depths of the glens below, where a thread of a glacial stream could be heard chattering.

She picked up a rock as they drew near, watching her gasp for breath and they slowed, a sudden odd look passing over their faces as they got a good look at what they were really chasing – it was a girl, a wild one, but oh, what a beauty! The bowman was superstitious, and barked an order to stop, as he had caught the full impact of Tarja's unusual eyes; soon, the others saw why he paused, and they grinned, eyes darting sideways at each other in agreement: she may be from a wildman's clan, but she was a jewel of Djevon and they'd be fools to leave such a gift unwrapped. To lay with a woman so finely fashioned with eyes the exact shade of mountain jade was not to be thrown aside! Later, she would bring a pocketful of gold when the lords of the small militia and cavalry caught up with the advance scouting sortie.

The thunk of a sharp flint against the cheek of the closest man surprised and irritated him; impatient, he strode forward, drawing sword to frighten her into submission; wary, desperate, Tarja slowly backed up until her feet hit the cliff edge; he shook his sword and bellowed; she did not flinch as she picked up another flint, and let her eye slide sideways to the depths below. The tanned cheek whitened, realizing she had no escape, except on his sword or down the cliff side. Her face further blanched as she quickly weighed cliff side vs. rape, then the unknown, most likely unpleasant.

_Enough. You know you’re not leaving these mountains alive._ Tarja raised her eyes, her face calm, the eyes now clear as she took in each of the men, silently saying: _I see you, I understand what you want, but I choose my own death._ The bowman was the first to understand, knowing something of taming wild creatures; his face softened and he shook his head, holding out a hand, beckoning her back; he barked out words in a soft mellifluous language, and the men all went wide eyed and began to shake their heads and beckon with hands and voices, also. The irritation fled the closest man's face and he slowly, deliberately lowered his shining blade.

Another short command from the archer sent the farthest man slowing backing away from the lookout point and then pelting down the path in search of the one the archer knew, the haughty consort who could fight like a man, ride like a demon and knew the language of wild things as well as his own Spirean.

The man with the sword said something to her and he made a show of sheathing his blade and stepping back slightly then held his hands down, slowly drew them apart in flat line; he carefully squatted, but kept his gaze on her, a silent watchdog. She looked at the other men, and they stood still also, the bowman carefully balancing against the great wood bow, his face calm and flat. She was puzzled – what were they waiting for? Her resolve weakened at the inaction and she wavered on the cliff edge, caught in indecision. And so, for what seemed like an eternity of purgatory, the scene remained frozen: Tarja on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump; the guards standing still, not wanting to be the one to be blamed for the death of such a valuable prize.

Finally, the beat of horse hooves were heard echoing up the path, then Tidus came striding up; his step slowed as he assessed the woman's precarious perch and the indecision on her face. To Tidus' eye, she had the look of a wild thing; he approached cautiously as if she were an animal instead of a desperately frightened woman. He quietly stood still, and caught her eyes. He almost whistled as she looked at him out of the corner of enchanting almond shaped eyes; they were set in a lovely face, lightly tanned skin stretched over gently curving cheekbones, emphasizing the near perfect oval of her face; delicate golden brown eyebrows swept in smooth arches above the wary eyes tinted an unusual blue-lavender, that rarest of colors found in mountain jade.

_No wonder they are fussing over her instead of letting her jump! What a wild beauty! I'd take her for myself, if I could, by Djevon! Now, how am I to snare this wild bird?_ Tidus thought quickly and decided to treat her respectfully, like she was an equal; he trained hunting hawks and eagles from the wild, and had decided this creature was no different; his respectful approach worked very well with the predatory birds, calming them. The woman calmed also, the fear leaving her eyes as he stood there with a calm face and respectful admiration in his eyes. His gloved hand waved the guards back and they slowly walked away one by one to the trailhead, leaving Tidus alone with the woman on the granite cliff edge.

Never breaking eye contact, he slowly held a hand out to her and silently pleaded with his eyes to approach; after examining him for some time, she raised her hand from her side also, but let it drop with a jump when a guard foolishly stepped on a branch with a crack of noise; Tidus regained her attention with a soft whistle, and started to speak words to her, softly calling her to come, enticing her with pet love words; again he held out his hand, slowly dropping to one knee as continued to coax her forward like reluctant wild eagle: "Ahhh, come now, come to me, my darling, my washiita, come…come…" slowly she took a step towards him; he remained where he was, the soft murmur of endearments changed pitch into a seductive low husky whisper as he told her how beautiful she was to him, how he wanted to hold her close to his breast, he wanted her to come to him, he would love her like no other…he knew he had won her as he felt the lightest of touches on his fingertips; the next moment she had knelt also, looking into his deep blue eyes, softly saying something in a tongue he could not fathom; all he could do was nod, mesmerized at the beauty so close to him.

His heart pounding, he slowly rose and quietly walked her away from the cliff edge and down the trail head, respectful of her person and quietly murmuring all the while. He ceased his love words before the others heard him; he wasn't about to be teased again for loving his wild things more than the Lady Yuna. Actually he didn't love Yuna at all; he was infatuated, flattered, attracted, charmed, anything, everything, but in love. He wished he could fall in love with her, but something always kept him on the edge of that mental cliff, vs. falling off, just like the wild woman he just captured. The campsite came into view and he simply walked the woman straight over to the young cadet on duty at the captive's tent and told him to handle with care.

The next morning, they broke camp and started their journey back to Bevelle; Tidus rode up on his bay to the captive's line and checked on the wild woman; she took his presence in stride, replying in a smooth, but incomprehensible language to his greeting. He attempted to ask her through simple words and gestures If she had been treated well; she understood something of his query at least, because she arched an eyebrow, raised her tied hands to demonstrate it was NOT what she wanted, and gave him a look that would have leveled a lesser man. Tidus merely shrugged it off, leaned forward in the saddle and teased her with one of the eagle's feathers hanging from his reins, saying: "You'd think I'd let such a fine bird escape, once she has come to my hand, _washiita_?"

He leaned back, gave her his best girl-chasing smile and looked for its effect on her; she didn't speak anymore, but it seemed the set of her jaw softened and her eyes did turn his way; he caught his breath at the glance upwards from under thick lashes, thinking: _Ah! Such liquid orbs of mercury could level a man, should they warm with a welcome! Perhaps I will have a bedmate tonight…._

Tidus waited until after the evening drinking round had begun before approaching the sergeant in charge of the captives; he had just brought him a third round of the fiery camp liquor and was about to ask him to allow him 5 minutes to see if his wild love-bird was willing to go with him or not, when a ruckus broke out in the captive's tent. The sergeant jumped up and ran, Tidus following hot on his heels; they pushed through the small crowd of soldiers and came upon a dreadful scene; one of the cavalry, a nobleman that was one of Yuna's peers, was dead, lying with his neck at an odd angle, obviously broken. There were signs of struggle on his face and body; his clothes were wildly disarranged, the pants loose, instead of neatly tied at the waist; the obi was missing.

The cadet was dragged forward and the sergeant slapped him roundly, then demanded his report. The cadet, white and shaking, tried explain that he was bribed by the lord Yamashita to enter the captive's tent for a woman he desired, a common enough practice, but things went awry - instead of submitting to the lord, the woman had been possessed by an evil demon, and not only refused the lord outright, but had broken free of her restraints and overcome the lord, all in the space of less than 5 minutes. “Equine feces!” was the sergeant's roared answer. “How could a mere woman break a trained officer's neck? And why was she in restraints? And if she WAS restrained, how could she break free of good Spirean rope, strong as steel, unless it was something else she was restrained with? Bring forward this demon-possessed woman and let us see her possessed state!”

The guards hauled forward Tidus' fantasy bed-mate, the wild woman from the mountain; shreds of the silk obi were around her wrists and neck; her oddly fitting dark clothes were ripped, and there was a bite-mark on a creamy sun-browned shoulder. She stood calmly, no trace of demonic influence about her that any could discern; her face was proud and defiant, yielding nothing, even when the sergeant bellowed and pointed at the lifeless body on the ground. She spat out a single unknown word with an expression of extreme disgust. Then she simply looked at the sergeant, gave a half smile, sparks of pure devilment in her silvery eyes, her face flat with hatred.

The cavalry wanted to lynch her right then and there, but the captain of the guard stepped in and his voice laid a burning imperial whip across their heads, shaming them for taking law into their own hands; humbled, they backed down. It was decided she would be simply bound and shipped to the capital to be sold for the dojo for prize fighting or the mines. Yamashita had a wife and it would never do to report he had been killed trying to get between an unwilling woman's legs.

Sadly, Tidus stayed up with the sergeant that night, killing a bottle between them until the fires were embers, as he recalled those eyes of hers looking at him that afternoon, with a glimmer of trust. What a waste he thought. The sergeant echoed his thoughts and something of his personal disgust at Yamashita showed through in his drunken face; quizzically he commented before passing out: "I thought if anyone were to going nest with the little eagle, it'd have been you! And none of this mess would have happened!" _No, I wouldn't have forced her; She'd have been a nice warm armful tonight and not so demanding as Yuna… Why did she kill him instead of just kicking him off and reporting him to the cadet? She’s a woman, there would have been fines, punishment – even the simplest wild clan has laws about touching a woman against her will. How strange. It doesn't fit together right. I'll think about it tomorrow._

Upon the militia's return to Bevelle, the small cavalry division Tidus belonged to went their separate ways after agreeing to meet for dinner that evening at the Inn of the 4 Awnings, then attend the prize fight at the dojo that night. The captives were delivered to Trader Lalu's for holding until they could be auctioned off in the slave market of Bevelle.

 


	3. Chapter 3

When the story of Yamashita's death was whispered in the ear of Yamashita's brother, he hacked off an ear of a servant serving tea, then ruined his wife’s favorite surasang dining table and celadon table service by hacking it into splinters and shards; and true to the Yamashita intolerable pride, he bribed the justicary to sell the intractable wild murderess to the dojo, where he would ensure she paid for her crime against the Yamashita clan with her life, and just as unpleasantly. The slaves at Lalu's heard the story of the broken neck and gave her a very respectful distance, as she was dangerous; they shrugged and turned back to their practice in the little dojo yard, each single-mindedly hoping they might survive the fight; for if they did, and pleased the crowd, they might live long enough for a case to come to trial.

Tarja was in a state of hysteria bordering on post-traumatic stress disorder, after being thrown into an alien world with nothing but her wits, having had been captured, then subjected to the humiliation of rape; she tried to eat, but threw it up and burst into tears as she tried to clean herself in the cold stone bath of the captive's house block. The old attendant took pity on her, and laid a quiet hand on the golden brown head, the touch helped the distraught girl calm her mind. She gave a shuddering sigh and quietly brought the ancient's hand to her forehead in respect, since she knew no words of Spirean. The ancient crone grimly nodded at the signs of Tarja's forced sex act on her body, looked at her with a gleam in her rheumy eyes and drew a line across her throat, then pronounced " _Uragimono!"_ with a cackle. Tarja could not help but smile and also slashed her throat, twice for good measure. The crone decided she liked this creature; she had spirit and just might make it out, if she were clever. She mimed at Tarja to look at the bath water, then threw in a pebble, which sank. She pointed and shook her head; then threw a wood marker in, which floated; she pointed and nodded, then pointed at Tarja, the finger poking her forehead, the ancient eyes now hooded and sharp underneath the heavy wrinkled eyelids.

Tarja suddenly remembered her sensei's advice when discussing Sun Tzu's Art of War: "When you find yourself in events beyond your control, do not try to stand against it, like a rock in the river; rather, be a twig and float along until an opportunity can be seized, then strike deep to change your course."

The crone made a gliding movement old as time with her hand, and her high pitched cackle echoed in Tarja's ears all the way down the corridor to the dojo’s arena later. She was now on the river of events in this bizarre medieval world. She would float.

The dinner at the 4 Awnings was much lighter in mood, and the little group of volunteers all were pleasantly excited by the upcoming prize fight, laying wagers eagerly on their favorites. Several consorts and courtesans were in attendance to round out the party, which would have been a dull affair had their wives and formal girlfriends been in attendance. One of the courtesans, a favorite of the Yamashita clan, became drunk with wine infused with lotus root; she then gossiped a choice bit to her friend, whom then told her cavalry lover; then soon the whole room knew the wild woman had been sold to the Bevelle dojo and was going down hard tonight.

This prompted a flurry of more bets to be exchanged, some of officers now putting money on the fierce little eagle that they claimed Tidus had tamed with just words; he protested, saying the wild eagle-woman was just that: wild. She didn't understand her role in civilized society. Several courtesans and Yuna piped up with the comment they were glad it was not their lover whom tried to nest with a killer, which gave Tidus pause.

He thought: _What if it had been ME in that tent instead of Yamashita? Would she have broken my neck? Perhaps Yuna is right, I should be glad…_ he sighed, and upended his cup, then held it out for more.

Yuna gracefully poured a draught of Soju, a vision of civilized beauty in her delicate jade green kimono, hair piled high, adorned with the gold and pearl flowers gifted by her consort peeping out above a pretty shell-like ear, congratulating herself in a very civilized manner at the way she had nipped Tidus' sympathy in the bud. She had noted the distracted mood and heard the gossip of how he had brought her down the mountain and followed her in the captive's line. She was also angry that Yamashita was dead; they had shared many pillows as lovers in the past, until she had seen Tidus in the capital at a kura-mei party. The fact that two men she knew as lovers were attracted to a wild woman bespoke of said woman's attributes and Yuna did not take rivalry easily. She began to daintily visualize a fantasy of tearing into the face of her imaginary rival, gently smiling as she imagined the red blood running down the woman's face, as she, Yuna, licked it from her delicate fingertips, in an ecstasy of triumph.

The timekeeper of the dojo struck the 8th hour of night and the time for prize fights approached; the troop with their courtesans, girlfriends, and hangers-on all crowded into their seats in the first terrace, closest to the square floor, sanded to absorb blood. The patrons and the wealthy sat in two levels of low terraces, leaving a steep balcony above and standing room in the back for the rest of Spirea; the fighters were pushed through narrow corridors below and came out at opposite sides; then the doors were barred, preventing escape, until only one remained standing.

Tarja was shoved onto the dojo floor and a soldier's katana was thrown in front of her. The door clanged shut and metal grated as the bar dropped down. She saw Tidus; hopeful, she ran back to him, the incomprehensible language pouring from her lips; it was obvious she was begging for mercy and did not want to fight, but neither Tidus nor Yuna would give her a sign of acceptance. Tidus' face softened momentarily, pitying the dirty, dusty creature; he did not like the caged prize fights much, they were usually uneven matches, a guarantee the hungry crowd would be fed its meal of blood. He then remembered Yamashita's broken neck and shook his head no, slowly and calmly looking away. Yuna smiled delicately and shrugged, looking adoringly at Tidus, clearly indicating his wishes were king, her heart singing at the chance to inflict as much damage as she could to the rival now in front of her. By Djevon, she was a beauty, made for passion! Yuna felt jealousy flame at seeing Tarja's exquisitely colored eyes. _No wonder his interest was caught! But no more, he is my pet, don't you see? He is tamed to MY hand!_

The babble of the crowd stopped momentarily, and a hundred mouths or more took a sharp intake of breath as the slim dusty figure stood from the kneeling position she was in and gave the aristocratic pair a regal bow; she then unsheathed the sword, pointing it at them, bringing it across her chest in an odd, unfathomable gesture that seemed half respect and half derisive. Eyebrows were raised at the obvious breach of manners shown by the wild woman, which amused Bevelle's temple maester sitting across the floor from Tidus and Yuna. Maester Seymour delicately sipped his wine, fanning himself as he watched the crowd behind his gently smiling face, light blue eyes giving away nothing of his interest in the woman on the dojo floor. _These fools think she's a stupid wildling! I somehow doubt that; that move looked well practiced. I wish I could have heard what she said; the look in her eyes was enough to slay a man where he stood. That young fool of a consort must be drowning in wine or drugged to have missed it. Well, we shall see if she does slay; this will be most interesting…a woman lovely enough to be a courtesan, yet strong enough to break a man's neck, then somehow given to the dojo instead of the court harem; this picture does not fit. I must have more facts…_

"We who are about to die, salute you!" Tarja sneered in English, her face a polite smiling mask. _Touché, you wasted blonde haired bastard! I trusted you and you made me a slave! Well, at least I'll go down fighting; God help me! Let me end my life honorably, don't make me beg for death anymore. It will fall on deaf ears here, didn't you see?_

Tarja calmly turned to her opponent, and began to assess him; he was a small man, shorter than her by a good six inches; she immediately understood his weakness by the set of his head and his attitude; it was simple case of envy, what they nicknamed short man syndrome in her classes. He felt cheated by not being as large as others, trivialized. Otherwise, he was completely fierce and she had no doubt he was well trained, from the display of his complex kata moves for his dojo patrons.

Suddenly, she felt comfortable; this situation was familiar; her fear lessened and she boldly took a very basic opening stance in horse position, her sword in the first position everyone learns first day of training. She made sure he saw her; he grinned at her trainee display; she frowned next, cocking her head to the side; then deliberately, she broke position and settled her herself in a lower horse position, bringing her sword down to a child's level.

The crowd roared with laughter at her jibe at his lack of height and the fierce grin faded from the pugnacious face of her opponent; he screamed and began his attack, running quickly to her, then as he deftly feinted, suddenly leapt up froglike on his brawny thick legs and swung his sword high, intending to hack her head off; he was off balance, overconfident, and wanted her blood.

Tarja simply dropped to her knees, letting the decapitating sword stroke whistle inches above her head; she was now eye to eye with the screaming little banshee and on his draw of the second stroke, she smoothly continued her movement, letting the momentum of her swift drop build into a hard turn on her knees counterclockwise, unwinding force like a clock spring ; the sword in her right hand dropped low to her waist, at the moment her back was to him, then joined with her left, it whipped up with savage force, arcing up to meet the thick neck as she completed her turn on her knees, finishing behind him.

The head rolled off neatly and the headless stocky body collapsed in a heap on the sand of the dojo floor. Shocked, Tarja realized she had done it; she had killed, killed honorably and lived. She slowly realized she might get out of this alive, she wasn't as helpless as she thought. She decided to be audacious and boldly performed chiba, the ritual moves to shake her blade free of blood and precisely sheathed her blade, then walked away from the twitching body as if she were the empress herself on an evening stroll.

The dojo was a madhouse, everyone cheering, abuzz with the sight of their favorite entertainment taken to a higher level; indeed, she had singlehandedly brought a common prize fight to the level of an art this evening and it pleased them mightily. Dry jaded palates were now fresh and alive with juices, warriors were suddenly noting everything about the brief fight, hoping they could bribe the dojo master to let them play with the new slave; other slave warriors were slyly grinning and nudging each other, grateful that little Ahnu with his terrible rages was no longer there to torment them; everyone wanted a piece of her, Tarja.

Tidus and Yuna had shouted themselves hoarse also; Tidus was absolutely stunned at the elegant simplicity of the move. No barbarian would fight like that. He began to wonder at that obvious point throughout the nightly round of parties, and concluded he felt that he had misjudged her somehow; there must be more, much more to her than what had met his eye.

He pushed away the cup of wine that Yuna and the courtesans in the House of Flowers were keeping so assiduously filled. He noticed his mental functions were becoming foggy and he longed for his old sharpness of mind; the courtesan began to wheedle, holding the cup to his lips, but he faintly smiled and placed two fingers across the rim in refusal, then unsteadily rose from his seat, seeking fresh air in the pretty courtyard downstairs. He took the cup with him, intending to pour it out and pretend he had drunk it, so he would not offend Lady Yuna, his consort. She simply didn't understand too much wine, too much of anything, affected a man's stamina.

Once outside, he took several breaths of cool night air, clearing it of the thick cloying incense burned in the pleasure rooms of the House of Flowers. He splashed himself with water from the little fountain, a charming replica of a farmer's pump, a single bamboo stalk dripping into a stone trough; body refreshed, he felt less dizzy and far less fuzzy about the edges.

_Yuna must be a drug for me and I am addicted_ , he thought; then a slow suspicion awoke in his mind; cautiously he raised the jade goblet and carefully sniffed; a faint perfume of lotus underlaid the sweet scent of the alcohol distilled from plums. Suspicion hardening into displeasure, he strode back into the pleasure house; giving his most charming smile he approached the nearest courtesan, presented the goblet and begged her to drink. She tilted the wine down, anticipating his attentions; he stood flirting with her for a while and then satisfied, he took leave of her. He had seen the eyes dilate and the speech slur; the wine was drugged, all right.

_But why? Why drug me?_ He asked himself as he and his consort rode home, Tidus pretending to be passed out in the tuktuk until shook awake by the porter of their home gate.

The next morning, during the daily weapons practice with the guard of their home, Tidus found out that the wild warrior woman of the dojo had been bought outright by maester Seymour after the fight. His disappointed face made the home guard laugh, then a merry voice in the group jibed: "Oh-ho! A day late and a coin short, young sir! You should have given her the nod when she begged you for mercy and you'd have been waking up with a nice armful and a smile on your face instead of that scowl!"

As they ducked and parried at the straw men in the yard, they discussed the surprise of a temple maester buying a dojo slave and all agreed there was an intrigue afoot. Tidus took note, and asked the men to listen about at the temple and tavern, offering enough silver for a few rounds of drinks or a girl if they brought back information. Startled, they wondered what woke up the young consort today, as he was usually hung over from Yuna's concoctions.

Indeed, his head was much clearer today, as he had quietly poured the morning juice and wine goblet he was served into Yuna's favorite camellia pot. Tidus thought he would take a page from his old master's lesson book, and make good on his earlier refusal. He had decided to help the wild woman somehow – he was reminded of Sora Hanta, his favorite hunting bird, a black eagle; she too, had come fluttering to him on the mountain, her wing broken. She had shown no interest in the fight or the hunt after he had nursed her back to health, until a political melee from the next county had spilled over, a small faction of fighting heretics and soldiers breaking into their compound 2 summers ago. Sora had risen screeching and dove in on the man Tidus had been fighting, talons ripping into the flesh of his face. He had been called Sora's lover for the rest of the week by the town of Bevelle, once the story got out.

When practice was done, he rinsed his sweating body off and changed into a plain, but well cut black tunic and his favorite Obi of grey silk woven in eagles and clouds motif, intending to ride to the maester's home. However, Lady Yuna had been notified a shipment from the capital arrived and needed to sign a legal document to ensure it had arrived. Since everyone had to do business with the maester on such things, she had also decided to visit maester Seymour that morning. She was dressed with exquisite care, knowing the maester enjoyed her business from purchasing brocades, silks and cottons for her family's household and training academy, all which had to be clothed in a manner fitting of their status in the community of Bevelle as the 2nd largest producer of rice and a warrior school for young men wishing to join the national imperial military.

So Tidus ended up jogging along on his bay horse at a frustratingly slow pace, to keep her company and as an informal guard as his position of consort demanded. The compound of House Seymour was finally reached before the sun reached noon, but they ended up waiting for a half turn of the clock before the maester could see to their needs. Yuna fanned herself while sitting on a delightful turquoise silk pillow, gazing out at the north garden, which was another delight to her senses in the spring sun; drifts of delicate tints from flowers planted enmasse appeared with pretend randomness in between the new fresh green of bushes and trees; the air was filled with the sweet scent of peonies, just coming into bloom. When the black purple head of Seymour came into view, Yuna smiled at Tidus and gently waved him off, so she could have the maester's undivided attention. Seeing there were a pair of house guards present, Tidus took advantage of opportunity and bowed, then asked if he could walk to the aviary to check on a hawk he had healed for Seymour earlier this spring. Once away from the main house, he almost ran through the enormous compound to get to the aviary: he felt sure they would keep the wild woman locked in there, or in the stables and he only had a small window of opportunity to find her.

Oddly, she was in neither place; disappointed, he idly ruffled the hawk's feathers, gently scratching its head; it recognized him and leaned into the gentle fingers giving such a delicious preening in the sun. Tidus smiled at the recognition, softly chirped and trilled at the creature in its own language, then spoke to it softly in the husky whisper he used when taming all birds: " _Kotori, yeogiseoh geun-yeoga washiita?"_

Sadly, it did not magically respond with an answer of where his sister eagle was, and simply stared back at him with a heartless yellow eye, then screeched a jealous farewell as he walked on. He walked back to the porch where he left Yuna, and to his surprise, Yuna was already back, but debating over several fabric samples in rich vivid colors; sighing, he wondered how else he could kick his heels until she had finished. He was rescued by Seymour, whom begged the lady to let him steal her 'sun headed shadow' for a few minutes to look at a new temple trainee. After they made good with a second escape from an indolent rich young woman with very refined tastes, they each breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. A few minutes' walk took them into the guard's quarter, where a babble of voices could be heard, all trying to shout directions at one time, it seemed. The courtyard had a small knot of men in the corner, some with staffs, all nervous at something in the corner. The maester stopped, and spoke, a touch ruefully: "Well, Tidus-san, I know you are talented in taming wild things, perhaps you could be so kind as to lend me a hand with this today? No one can communicate reason to her!"

Frowning, Tidus walked closer to the knot, only to see a man come reeling away, with a bloody nose. It was her, all right. Secretly elated, he barked at everyone to back off, leave the courtyard, and lock it shut.

"Careful! 'ware!" called Seymour, safely looking down from the long second story balcony of the guard's quarters.

Tidus pretended to ignore the woman's feral state of mind, and walked forward to her, but stopped a good twenty feet away. He patiently stood still, but never took his eyes off of her as she circled all the way around him warily.

Then he simply asked in a reasonable tone of voice: "Are you finished yet? Can I talk to you now?"

He continued on, telling her his name, the name of Seymour, and where she was, in Bevelle. Tarja looked at him with little liking, despite the extraordinarily handsome face and calm, friendly blue eyes. She had begged him for mercy last night and received none.

Irritated at his ultra calm voice, and quite sure it was another trap being set, she filled with a deep anger at all the undeserved pain and suffering she had endured since arriving on this medieval backwater of a planet; her temper broke and she ran at him in a full tilt attack, itching to get a piece of him; he picked up a staff and twirled it into blocking position, but the guard's sword she had in her hands hacked partially through the staff, bringing Tidus into a tumble on the ground; she raised her sword again, intending a killing blow, but paused when Tidus simply threw down his useless piece of wood, then parted his gi, exposing his chest, sun-browned, his tattooed house sigil of the imperial seal on the right pectoral. He raised his eyes and again, calmly looked at her, trying to speak in the silent language of wild things: – _I see you, I truly see you; washiita, you are hurt and frightened, and I would die to make you understand me….come, come now, see me. Calm yourself. There is no need to die today…let me sooth your hurts, kill me if it will take away your pain…I see you…_

Shaking with anger, but somehow mesmerized by the eyes silently speaking to her again, she paused; awed, the guards also sucked in their breath as Tidus' life hung in the balance, a razor sharp katana raised above his extravagant head of golden hair; she decided to spare his life, but not his pride; in a flash she whirled the sword down, stopping the blade at the swift lock of her slim wrists less than an inch from his neck. Her voice ringing in the little courtyard, she called out the only Spirean word she had learned since her arrival: " _Uragimono!"_

Traitor, she thought as she relaxed her stance, now confident she'd gotten her point across, seeing his iris dilate in surprise, a blush of shame creeping into his keenly sculpted cheekbones as the word for traitor sank in. A cry from his heart said the same: _Traitor! Why didn't you listen to me? I was right about her!_

She carefully put the sword down and crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows for his move, the gestures indicating she was done, her point was made. The guards suddenly erupted into laughter, as the scene was suddenly more like a lover's spat than the near death of a half royal bastard in the home of a temple maester. Tidus, however, was nothing but elated. He knew he'd won her, again. He cared not at the laughter, he knew the secret of taming; it was making a bond through love, not fear. He smiled suddenly, white teeth sparkling in an engaging grin, as he swept her a bow and stated: "I swear I never cheated on you, little eagle!" which, of course, again had the desired effect on the guard.

Tarja's eyes were focused on his face and she suddenly exclaimed the Spirean word "Eagle!?" and shaking her head in a vigorous no, she uncrossed her arms, pointed at herself and proudly announced "Tarja!" Tidus again bowed, and gestured at himself, stating: "Tidus; my name is Tidus Tanaka noh Ishii."

Now that she was distracted from her killing mood, he quietly stepped up to her and softly spoke in a sincere apologetic tone, trying to convey he understood her anger at being treated like a wild animal instead of a civilized being. The woman looked a bit wary, then slowly warmed as she realized she had been understood, and the man standing in front of her had the warmth of the sun in his eyes, crinkling in understanding. He held his arm out, as he would to any lovely woman and she took it; he walked her to the gate and looked up at the maester to unlock it.

The maester also smiled in relief and invited the new interpreter of his new trainee to visit again tomorrow; the woman was now quiet, behaving with manners that indicated civilization had touched her and let herself be led to the bathhouse by a servant. A yip came from within the bath house and she came running back out straight to Seymour and Tidus; unexpectedly she floored them both with a brilliant smile, chattering in an excited voice and… bowed! She then ran back into the bath house still speaking in her outlandish tongue, almost dancing in apparent delight at the fact there was a bath house. With a shake of his black-purple hair, Maester Seymour smiled at Tidus, quoting from the Book of of the Art of Love: "Man's second greatest invention is not the kiss, but hot water!" then began to plan the new trainee's curriculum in his head as he walked Tidus and Yuna out the door a half hour later. Head buried in silks and brocades, Yuna failed to notice the bay's pace had slowed to a walk to match her sedan chair the entire way home. Tidus' head was also buried.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tidus galloped his horse to the maester's estate as soon as his lady Yuna left the house; He threw himself into the task with enthusiasm, he had somebody to teach! Then every day that came after, he arrived at the training compound earlier and earlier, until he was like the old temple trainee he remembered, now up at dawn, leading the house in the morning salutations of the tai chi c'huan, eating clean, fresh meat and vegetables instead of the richly sauced dishes of Yuna's master chef; with silent amusement, he continued to kill the pot of camellias with the morning cup.

Tidus lost no time in throwing himself into teaching her his language and within days she could string together enough Spirean where the maester could ask basic questions of her, taking copious notes. Tidus walked her all over the expansive property of Seymour's , pointing out leaves, flowers, birds, the weapons practice room, aviary, stables, laundry, pantry, the temple rooms, the library; he gained much knowledge of what level of knowledge she was at from observing her; He was quite surprised when she was given paper, brush and ink. She then began to write in her own language, an echo of Seymour's habit, drawing pictures as need be. She had a strong angular hand, the letters neat and precise and she showed some skill in drawing objects. The concept of math was more difficult, as the two writing systems were different; he and the maester were somewhat mystified at her markings, until it dawned on them her numbers were represented by unique markings in combinations. Seymour had a child's abacus brought forward and she fell on it with an exclamation of recognition. A teacher was brought in to teach math and writing in the mornings, leaving the golden afternoons with Tidus. Jealous, he hung about for two days until he realized he could capture her all to himself in the soft early summer evenings and started to come at the noon meal.

For the first time in his life, he had something to offer a woman besides a consort's services, and he started to feel a sense of self dignity; a glimmer of something like confidence crept into his stance and actions, until one day he realized he was taking the lead in a conversation, while showing mistress Tarja how he launched and landed his hunting birds. She was awed by his black eagle, Sora Hanta, and clapped her hands gleefully as a child when he launched Sora while mounted on his horse and running at a solid gallop; he curveted the bay around the girl in the golden afternoon, kicking up dust that fell in glittering veils of amber and apricot around them as she yelped, dissolving into peals of laughter as she threw a handful of dust back at him; their eyes met and they smiled at each other for an easy moment. With a shock, he realized that a streak of kindness ran in her and that she was looking at him not like an object but a person. He clung to the memory later, as somehow it excited him, and far more deeply than Yuna and the two courtesans she'd brought into her bed to play with that evening. Deep in the night, he shut his eyes, letting his body go into a programmed rhythm as his mind took flight, far away from the sordid scene he was playing out for Yuna's pleasure, imagining it was another woman he was plunging into, her eyes soft and melting, no artifice to the soft cries as he brought a creamy brown tanned body to a sweet release; hoping no one had noticed his lack of focus, he brought them more wine, and made his escape as soon they drifted off to sleep in a tumble of silk sheets. He quietly returned to his own bed and fell asleep while randomly picking out bits of poetry: _…eyes of Jade, that cool and misty shade…_

The maester spoke to Tidus about Tarja and her progress one afternoon: "Some things of mistress Tarja are still not known to me; I need answers that she may not know how to communicate, but I suspect she is simply afraid to tell us. Can you ask her why she looks at the stars every night? Can you get her to speak of how she came to be on the mountain, and why she killed Yamashita? How did that happen? She was tied with an Obi, for Djevon's sake! I must know, for I suspect; well…let me say I am troubled; I have no previous experience to guide me here – there is no documentation of her kind, even in the great temple library in the capital."

"You mean…she is an alien? We have several visiting ambassadors from other planets, maester; I don't see what you are getting to."

"Yes, but do you notice how much she is like us? How easily she adopts some of our ways? She may be a compatible race, but I suspect we are related more closely than I care to know. I confess it does not comfort me, Tidus-san."

Tidus kept his mouth shut, as he was personally glad Tarja might be compatible; he remembered how his blood was stirred by her, and was hopeful of a stolen kiss or two under the summer stars that night. He waited patiently in the courtyard, lit by enormous paper lanterns in softly bobbing rows as she finished her bath in the women's bath house. The bath girls had gossiped with him about how delighted she was when she was brought to the bath house, and almost went mad with joy when she discovered the hot water, washing herself, not once, but three times, both hot and cold! She bathed every day, like any civilized person here would do, and favored astanga resin soap over the tuberose or camellia scented soaps and oils the ladies of Bevelle used.

She came out just after sunset, dressed in a traditional bath yukata dyed in its pattern of indigo and white; Spireans loved all things blue, as it was an infrequent occurrence in nature. He was aware of how trim her body looked in the neatly wrapped kimono, thinking the indigo blue brought out the blue in her eyes, which fascinated him. She wore kimono and hakama as if she was already used to such things, which was a puzzle when compared to the dark close-fitting garments she had on when she was found. He made a mental note to ask her about Earth garments later, but for the moment, he indulged in a young man's interest of flirting with a girl on a summer night.

It made him happy to be walking in the evening in a lovely garden with the girl; it felt…simple. He was relieved to not have to plan so much out for a lady's comfort, such as clear walking paths for trailing robes, or ensure the pavilion had an abundance of pillows for a backside already well rounded. Tarja simply walked, as men did, observing, or listening , or stopping occasionally to tilt her head to the night sky and make scratches on her ever-ready pad of paper. She would look over and shake her head with a silent laugh at his compliments, as if to say she would not take him seriously. Intrigued, he could not always tell if she simply did not understand him, despite his use of the simple phrases he would use when flirting with a shy country girl or if she deliberately misunderstood him, playing the light game of flirtation well. Her Spirean had improved at decent pace and she could pass for a country girl, until her vocabulary increased and the accent could be smoothed out into the delicate cadences of the aristocratic high court. When they stopped at a small bridge arching over one of two freshwater springs on the estate, they leaned against the railing, idly dropping twigs and leaves into the current and watching the fireflies flit in and out of the garden.

Quietly, he asked her if she could consider telling him how she came to be here, and where she was really from. He went on to say he and others had misjudged her greatly and wished to apologize, even help her return to where she came, if it were within their power.

Her gentle answer startled him: "You cannot help me. I was sent…no,…travelled… through space and perhaps through time to Spirea. I don't know where I am; I am…lost? My people do not travel in space and time…um…between worlds? Travel in space and time is just a…a theory." She gestured to the pad of paper as she continued: " I am looking at the stars here; I draw the _constellations_ …oh? …I mean star pictures, I am making a map of the stars." Her voice lowered with sad undertone as she continued: "I do not recognize any of them. I…am…lost, as if at sea."

"Do you want to know something I think? I think other people from Earth have come here before me, but it must have been a long time ago. Some signs…what is the word?...symbols of your people are like people at home, on Earth. There was a land, in the East, hundreds of years ago it lived. The land was named Chosun…Korea today. The people were proud: very honorable. Like here in this land, Chosun had a king, Uijeongbu- a state council, Samsa, the 6 offices, Senobi - warriors, even courtesans called gisaeng; except here you call them gisa! The people of Chosun called their country the Land of the Morning Calm….it sounds like the name I hear when the servants speak of the imperial court."

She went silent, letting it sink it, then spoke again, struggling to find words: "Tidus, I know you see me wild, no manners. I am not wild. You must understand me, in my home, I am a free woman….no slaves. I am free as you, a man...a lord of myself? I can own property, go as I please, marry or divorce anyone, be a soldier….a warrior."

Tidus inwardly groaned at that last statement, now realizing she was not wild, but civilized and trained. He knew the answer to the next question, but he asked anyway: "Pretty Tarja-san, you must be a great warrior at home; I did not know why you broke Yamashita's neck, but know I know. There are laws for killing here, but…did you know you may be justified? Found innocent? Can you bring yourself to tell me why you killed him?"

"You asked why I killed the man in the camp, correct? Tidus, on Earth, it is wrong for a man to force a woman to…to…let him." Her face became hard and set as she continued: "It is a law in my country, Tidus-san. To protect myself, my…honor, I have the right to defend myself by any means, should someone violate me or enter my home without my consent. My country has a person’s rights written in it's … _constitution_ …" Tidus' face showed puzzlement at the strange word, and Tarja substituted an older word: "…Charter? Code of living? –Anyway, the foundations of our civilized living have 26 separate _amendments_ , like… laws, with many minor laws under each of them. The law I referred to is the second law, as it were. Do you need me to talk to the maester about it tomorrow?" She anxiously asked, seeing the complete shock and bewilderment on Tidus' face.

Shocked he was, as it sank in that she was from a race that might have well founded his own here on Spirea, if the theory of travel between the two planets could be proven with the presence of a gate. Tarja was far more sophisticated than he had imagined, yet, she was leaning over the bridge, tossing in flowers like any country maid! His mind began to furiously work, so many questions arose as result of this incredible revelation; so many things fitted together differently now. Then he realized Tarja was looking at him oddly; he floundered back to the present moment and desperately searched for another question to ask her: "So…uh..Tarja…do you have a mate…or… um…a lover back on Earth?"

She burst into bell-like peals of laughter and rolls her eyes: "A thousand worlds from home, and all you think of is if I'm single or not!" _…I bet you have a million girls already_ , she thought.

The mood changed, he found himself amused also. In a flash of insight, he saw how ridiculous he sounded and realized he was so much lighter inside than he'd been in a long time. He liked the idea of having her all to himself, and wondered if she'd be accepting of him as a lover. Maybe not tonight, but at least he could get her to think of him as more than her temple trainer on Spirea.

"But, lady, what man could resist such eyes, two mountain springs to drown in under a summer moon!" Tidus had a way with a courtly phrase, and he looked up under his lashes with a burning look of blue flame for a moment, utterly devastating to many of the maids in Bevelle and the imperial capital.

Amused at the hardened flirt clad in the innocent form of a young temple man, she shook her head lightly, and turned to walk back to the compound. Disappointed, Tidus turned back also. When they reached the little garden by the bath house, she lightly turned to him, then surprisingly, kissed his summery cheek, a swift brush of angel's wings; as he stood there, stunned in the warm summer evening, she threw over her shoulder: "Oh, if I should ever wish to fall for a man, I don't need to be tripped, Tidus-san."

 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was hectic, with everyone starting to scurry about and prepare for the O-Bon mid-summer festival for the next 14 days; many families made travelling plans to visit shrines of ancestors in distant parts of the kingdom. The markets were busy with wives buying supplies, and trade in horses became brisk. It was an act of family piety to respect the graves of their forebears, usually reading religious texts aloud to ensure the spirits felt remembered and loved; many people wrote prayers or love-wishes on long narrow strips of colored paper or cloth and tied them to the cherry blossom trees that traditionally grew near the gravesites. The trees could be illuminated by lanterns or bonfires in the night, as the family gathered around to enjoy a small feast and recall the kind or brave deeds of ancestors passed.

Tidus, being a bastard child of the son of heaven in the capital, usually received one of his two annual invitations to the imperial palace, which he usually accepted, this year being no different. He planned to take Lady Yuna with him, after she had made her family visit to her family's summer house on the great lake north of Bevelle. It would only be six days, and they could make the trip to the capital in two days, if they took a boat, vs. sedan chair or riding. Some of Yuna's peers were travelling to the capital also, and by pooling their resources, they all settled on a 3 cabin junque for private hire. Tidus indulged Yuna in many things that morning; a new Obi, lychees in snow, custom blended incense for the family shrine, but quietly stood firm on no alcohol to drink on the river cruise; she lightly pressured him, a touch of fear behind her arguments that the party expected to pass the time with sophistication and ease on the river. She rattled on in the slightly nasal tone she affected when she pretended to be urban and sophisticated – she rolled her eyes and commented it was so dull and old fashioned to take a slow junque, she would be bored, everyone else was going to play drinking games, so why not try to fit in a little more?

With hooded eyes, Tidus felt a prick of hard curiosity against the soft layer of swaddling his brain had wrapped in these past 9 months: _Why is it so important that *I* drink? I smell her fear. And with fear, there is always deception. It's like I am being force fed delicacies like a pig, only to be slaughtered for a roast!_ For a millisecond, his skin crawled and his instincts screamed: _run, RUN, Fly, you fool!_

Try as he would, he could not shake the fear; he was not a coward but something about his pretty lover just simply set him on edge lately. He decided he'd let her think she got her way, but planned a little ruse in the way of holy miracles: Somehow, the some of the wine in the bottles would turn into water. He shortly laughed, put on a rueful face, then told Yuna he was being vain, he didn't want to ruin his waistline to please her, as she was everything to him and would be very sad if she nulled their contract because he was no longer her beautiful and slim consort.

Her relief was obvious and she clung so tightly to his arm that he searched for a distraction to soothe the animal fear still visible in her dark eyes. A jeweler's awning he he had been looking for was within sight, so he propelled her into the stall to buy her something.

The jeweler's case was filled with many exquisite things but one thing caught his eye: mountain jade. Yuna's eyes went wide at the thought Tidus was going to buy her jewelry in jade and she was flattered, forgetting her fear that the instructions she was given to keep Tidus well fed with pleasure were also delivered with the promise of pain if she did not. She argued with herself: _It gives a man pleasure to see his lover richly adorned, I am not doing any harm! No matter if he doesn't wish to drink; there are other ways to ensure he gets his dose of herbs. I have obeyed; I have done all that is asked, the society will be pleased with me._

Mountain jade was an old gem in the history of Spirea; it was sought after for its smooth cool glossy finish and translucent quality that held an array of earthy colors from soft grey-greens to snowy white to a vivid leaf green; but the one color they all lusted after was the cool blue-lavender, euphemistically named dragon's breath, eye of dawn, mountain mist, and so on by the jewelers to describe the subtle gradations of the color blue.

The tint of blue was only found in the sky and the ocean, one species of bird, three insects, and two varieties of flowers on Spirea. Of course, the human inhabitants had blue eyes; It was an eye color usually found in the south continents of Spirea; Zanarkand was full of men and women with fair hair, golden brown skins and intense cobalt blue eyes like Tidus; it was like walking in the streets of a city of demi-gods for the northerners, who tended to be bronzed or pale with brown hair, or even jet, with glossy blue-purple undertones and earth-colored eyes.

The jeweler's display case held a delightful array of jewelry in several shades of jade, some even set with minute sparkling diamonds or pearls to contrast. Yuna personally preferred green, as it usually held its value and set off her porcelain skin well; the blue was too subtle a color for her, despite its greater value. Tidus smoothly slid two bangles up her arm in a subtle caress and bid her to hold her arm up and choose. One was a lovely clever piece of work, incorporating a complex carving of a dragon holding a link in its mouth, with sparkling white gold scales and minute diamonds for eyes; the other looked as simple as a kitchen pot next to a china vase, a plain cuff of stone, subtly shaped to a pure clean oval, but in the shade of blue the jewelers referred to as twilight; and indeed it was the exact shade of peaceful dusky blue the sky and air takes when the sun has just set below the horizon and the spangles of night stars and fireflies have yet to rise.

Yuna fluttered her adorable lashes and begged her consort to choose for her, stating the loveliness of the stone made it too hard for her to choose. He shrugged and slipped the twilight jade off, and surprisingly, slipped it on his own wrist; the blue was a better match for his golden looks and he paid for both without even haggling over the price, as he usually did. Yuna raised melting eyes to his face and promised him a night of ecstasy, but not tonight – when they were in the capital she would ensure he had the city's best to please him, and she would be there to play right along with him. _Djevon help me,_ he wryly thought _– if have to please all of them like I have to please Yuna, I'll be dead by morning!_

All at once the back of his neck went chill; it was like long fingers of death brushed him with a light caress and the night of pleasure seemed fraught with darker overtones. A dark upwelling of choking fear rose at the thought of dying at the apex of pleasure and he wanted to be anywhere but here, walking down the street with this succubus next to him.

_Steady,_ he told himself; _think of something light and clean and good; perhaps I am just overwrought; seeing my father always makes me anxious._ He blew a kiss at Yuna, unwilling to even be touched by her flesh for some unknown reason and mounted his horse to ride to the maester's , as she stepped into a carriage for another of her ever-lasting society meetings; but the feeling of fear and evil still clung, giving the coachmen sinister, hungry eyes as they met in passing, leaving him clawing his way up from black depths of death-thoughts mixed with ecstasy all alone, with no one to help him watch his back or fight it with him. So there he sat in the saddle, staring after the carriage, gently turning the bracelet as if it were a magic talisman to ward off evil, unconscious of the fact it was the exact shade of Tarja's eyes.

The daily gallop in the summer afternoon to the Seymour estate soon dispelled his dark fears; he told himself he would talk to the maester about it later and ask about 'the society' as Yuna hushedly referred to it; Seymour would advise him with the voice of reason. This afternoon was going to be a day of freedom, as the maester was taking the day to finalize the preparations for his O-Bon celebration on the estate. He visited with Seymour first and was drawn in to his planning notes; Seymour was a personal friend of the emperor, and his wealth had financed the ambitious warrior-lord's road to the throne more than once; it had paid off tenfold the third time, so Seymour enjoyed a gentle rivalry with the son of heaven on this upcoming holiday. Seymour had very refined tastes, and possessed a major-domo that was a paragon of planning and project management, which the son of heaven regularly threatened to impress into the navy and send to the far end of the world.

Tidus' bracelet was admired, as Seymour was an avid collector of the blue. Generously, Tidus immediately pressed it on him as a gift for the upcoming holiday. Seymour accepted graciously, after the requisite two fold refusal that good Bevelle manners dictated and slyly remarked he might have been the wrong recipient, noting the match to his temple trainee's eyes. Seeing Tidus manfully holding down a blush, he turned up his charm and kindly suggested that Tidus come to his O-Bon and teach mistress Tarja; the guard was too scared of her to ask, and it would not do to leave his guest without a guide through the cultural aspects of the holiday, so as not to upset anyone. Upon Tidus' query on why they were frightened, Seymour flipped his glossy purple black mane towards the courtyard dojo and grinned at him: "Go watch and see for yourself!"

Tidus bowed, and lightly ran to the dojo, eager to see her, imagining her as he last saw her, in a pretty kimono, the soft brush of her pink lips warming his memory even more. The dojo was a sweating, panting, mess of men all surrounding the ring, exhausted from the exercise of rondori, a free for all practice where 2 or more attacked a single trainee; this was a very practical way to get the trainees to think on their feet, but how, oh how, the trainee in the ring right now made them lose their minds!

She never broke in the direction the textbooks illustrated; she did not fight standing straight up or in the 5 positions at all times, as a man should; she used everything and anything to move about the ring, take any advantage, or leverage power without effort. She dove, she turned and moved forwards and backwards on knees as well as on her feet; catlike, she would incorporate any feature of the landscape into her movements, even lightly running up a wall two steps to give her practice wooden katana enough force to drive through a trainee's rock solid defensive posture, his arms easily as thickly muscled as her thigh. Nothing she did followed the proper rules of combat, nothing was sacred, and damn it all, she was winning every time.

Tidus felt his blood rise like he'd never felt it rise before and before he knew it, he was striding forward, jerking his silk Gi off, and shouting the traditional _Hup_ as he ran into the ring to join another trainee in an attack on her. He chose the wasp attack, his sword fairly buzzing with the fast repeated strokes in double circles, which normally would be surrounding him with an impenetrable shield of moving steel. Sweating, her hair half out of its neat tail, she looked at him with a dusty face, rolled her eyes with a look that said _Idiot_ , and simply dropped from his gaze when he was within four feet of her. Suddenly, his feet were swept from under him and he crashed hard on his back. He slapped the ground hard to dissipate the force of the fall and rolled away, swift as a cat righting itself and scrambled to his feet, looking for her; then she was upon him, with an overhand strike, so he recklessly dove in and threw her over his shoulder, _kata guruma_ style.

He thought: _Now there, THAT'S finished,_ intending to sooth her hurts in the bath house later that evening and maybe get a real kiss, but as he turned, she was somehow  not crashing to the ground in a tumble, but falling cat-like through space, her arm subtly flexing and curling into a strong curve imitating a sword blade, then gracefully rolling down the arm and shoulder, arriving in a crouching position.

_What the...?_ he thought, and insanely ran for his sword in the dirt twelve steps back, while she was occupied with his partner. Having chewed through the other man in a matter of four moves, leaving him rolling in the dust, she turned back to Tidus, a bit more dusty himself, who stood there like the calm in the eye of a hurricane, sword at waist level in 4th position and a hand poised above in 1st with a short knife, thrown in by another trainee. She slowly picked up her sword and began to circle him, wary as the first time she'd seem him on the cliff side on mount Gazgaret; He began a verbal tease to distract her, calling her _washiita_ and trilling at her like he would at his pet hunting eagles to come to him.

If she could have screeched like one she would have, judging from the look on her face; but he dropped the verbal jibe when she spun and threw the curved blade at him, aiming straight for his center body mass. Had it been a real weapon, he would have been hit with a life-threatening wound by a blade as sharp enough to shear through bone. His distracted eyes followed it as it whirled to him through space and suddenly, a movement to his right caught the corner of his eye; he only had time enough to step mere inches to the left, and he simply grabbed in a wrestler's hold, then hung on through sheer strength to Tarja's mass, now crashing into him instead of kicking him to Djevon in the bright blue sky above. They both crashed over into the shallow pond in the south corner of the dojo yard and simply became a mass of arms and legs thrashing at each other for a hold; legs wrapped around waist and hip in an effort to gain any leverage; arms slipped and slid on wet flesh, neither gaining traction until a gi collar was finally grasped; gasping, Tidus felt her teeth sink in his pectoral and growling in frustration, he tightened his legs around her waist; now exhausted, they both lay there, soaked, gripping each other, yet not giving an inch.

At that point the referee shut his gaping mouth and screamed "TIE!", then rang his tinny little gong in a fit of energy, so the undignified spat would stop. The guard trainers and trainees were silent for a moment, knowing 15 seconds more and she would have wriggled out of his grasp; and true to men, they all started to cry "Tie!" to support Tidus in winning the best prize-fight they'd ever seen a man make with the little eagle trainee. They applauded him as they both rose from the muck of the pond, calling out " _Washiita!"_ as a friendly jibe, appreciative of his persistence and at the same time relieved that the little trainee was shown to be being of the natural world, and not some insane demon or other legendary creature in disguise.

Of course, they all bowed with the utmost respect. Especially Tidus.

 


	6. Chapter 6

"Ohhhh…yes…there…"

"Harder?"

"Mmmm…please."

In the steamy warmth of the bath house Tidus was getting the best massage he'd ever had in his life, blissful contentment ruling his world. He had a look on his handsome face like a cat that had been fed at the expense of a flock of canaries as the bath house masseuse charmed away the aches and pains he had collected in the dojo yard.

_Where on Spirea does he find these people?_ He wondered; _I can't even keep a pretty girl as a servant around Yuna, much less a talented one like this. Maybe I need to be more like Seymour and play the celibate._

He and Tarja had limped to the bath house, leaning on each other unsteadily, too proud to admit they'd had the crap kicked out themselves; they never saw the exchange of money between hands and the wide grins behind their backs, either. She bowed and left him to bathe in the women's section; he was half of the mind to go join her; it was entirely permissible to bribe the attendant and let them bathe together. He thought he had surely ruffled her feathers with the throw, but it was a shallow excuse - he just wanted an excuse to see her. He didn't know what to call the singing feeling of excitement running in his veins this afternoon during the match; there was no word for foreplay in the Spirean texts on the art of love and war, but damn, he liked it! As soon as the body bliss was over, he'd ask the masseuse to help him with the bribe. The hands stopped for moment and the masseuse held up the sheet to allow him to turn with modesty. She then quietly requested a few moments to get more oil, the maester's signature scent for his bath house, called the Steppes.

He laid on his stomach, relaxed, arms draped over the sides; he heard the masseuse's footsteps and sighed pleasurably as she gently poured oil in her hands to warm it, then held it to his face to breathe in the clear clean scent of _astanga_ resin, cedarwood, and white myrrh. The hands continued on their journey, gently working him from his feet to his legs, his hips, and lower back; as the hands started to glide up his back, he was surprised to feel calluses on the right palm and with a quiet shock, he realized the hands were different; for a second he was filled with dark dread, that someone had come to assassinate him; but no, he realized it was Tarja – what other woman would have calluses on the right hand only, as a swordsman would? He released the breath he had been holding and melted into the table in pure sensual delight. She wasn't as skilled as the masseuse, but the thought of her making the effort to massage his hurts away made it especially delightful; he welcomed her attempts, almost sure he was going to not only steal a kiss later, but maybe get a glimpse of those beautiful breasts crushed against him earlier.

With the anticipation of a connoisseur, he felt her fingertips stray a little farther down on his hips than was necessary; they gentled to the point of a caress when passing over the bruise near his shoulder; her breath came close enough to the back of his neck to make the fine hairs themselves erect in pleasure. The sheet was held up and playing out the game, he kept his eyes closed as he turned to lay face upwards for the final loosening of the shoulders, and chest, or any work upon the core muscles. Again, she worked him thoroughly, releasing the tight broad chest muscles with small, deep chiseling movements of pure bliss, even gently working his face and scalp, putting delicate pressure on places he'd never thought needed massaging before.

His will became ragged as a swirl of long hair tumbled across his abdominals, slowly brushing his torso as she gently worked his obliques, bringing a mindless blind throbbing heat between his legs. Tidus almost groaned out loud as her lips softly kissed the bite mark on his pectoral in silent apology; then silence descended in the little room, cooling the throbbing of his heated body. When he finally gained enough self-control, he opened his eyes to nothing but candles flickering in the evening. For a moment he wondered if it was just his imagination; there was no trace of her in the bath house, as he walked through the hall back to the dressing room, opening shoji after shoji and peering into nothing but empty rooms.

Riding home in the soft summer dark, he lifted his head to the stars, feeling clean and whole; he caught himself speaking to Djevon almost like a friend; he hadn't prayed in so long.

_Djevon, whatever it is that is happening, bring me more! I wish...I wish my life was more simple and real sometimes, like tonight. Let me know she was for real…_ The breeze shifted and Tidus found himself with a mouthful of hair; spitting it out, he was puzzled: _Huh? Since when did my hair grow so long?_ He pulled a handful forward and even more puzzled, saw a strand seemed much longer; then a shout of laughter floated up to Djevon, as Tidus saw an eagle's feather had been clipped to it.

_Birds do not nest in bare trees_ , Djevon teasingly reminded him in the voice of his old temple trainer.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, the twin stars Vardi and Vashta hanging in the sky like dazzling pearls in the rosy light; Tidus led the daily meditation movements to start the day; the household was becoming quite pleased with him lately and the bows of respect afterwards were now genuine instead of perfunctory. He watched his lady get ready for her journey, his enthusiasm genuine, secretly relieved he'd be his own master for 6 nights and 7 days. The household felt something of the same and hurried to finish loading her travel case, her robes, and boxes of gifts she planned to offer. She left instructions with the major domo to ensure Tidus was brought his morning cup infused with herbs, but the packet of herbs was mislaid by the flustered man as he had forgotten to stow her parasol, the one in that perfect shade of pinkish red, so flattering to all complexions.

Tidus almost felt remorseful that she was required to visit for so long; it seemed she was trapped in ritual, tradition and family duty just as much as she was, until the eagle feather fluttered in the breeze and brushed his cheek.

_Almost?_ Djevon whispered, amused.

Within an hour of Lady Yuna's departure, Tidus was swinging a leg up on his bay and the major domo was grinning in delight at the news he was given 2 days off with pay and instructed to send 3 days of clothing, one formal party wear, to Maester Seymour's estate, along with the traditional gifts one sends a host.

Tidus brought a small package or two, one safely stowed in his obi for an untraditional, but entirely perfect gift for a certain guest. He pulled the eagle feather out of his hair as he rode; it was a small act of defiance directed at Yuna, but thought it'd best be tucked away during a formal occasion like the O-Bon.

His arrival was now one of several at the estate, as the maester entertained in a fairly lavish manner; he was well known to plan entertainments for his guests with great originality; the servants all liked the duty, as there was a feast for them in their own wing of the compound. The only beings not off duty were the guards; this was when they earned their keep. Seymour met his guests under the wide veranda, sitting on a brocaded pillow on a raised dais, his sleek purple black hair immaculate and his patrician handsome face with its pale blue eyes serenely smiling in welcome. He was also immaculately dressed in temple robes dyed in the imperial purple vs. green to denote his connection to the imperial house and display his loyalty; the robe was a work of wonder, handmade in the very traditional _tsujigahana_ style; each length of fabric took hundreds of hours to create, hand-tied in careful knots in complex patterns and brushed with exquisite dyes untiI it seemed the whole pattern had been an organic act of nature vs. one created by the hand of man. His house sigil hung on his neck, the mountain jade carved in a subtle shade of dragon's breath, contrasting but complimentary to the simple bangle in twilight on his left wrist. A fan of rare white eagle feathers lay nearby to complete his picture of a perfect courtier, temple trained and every inch a sophisticated aristocrat.

Tidus greeted him in the formal manner of high court, and then was invited to sit and be welcomed as tradition dictated; Tarja was waved forward from a line of trainees sitting behind the maester's dais after a good 10 minutes conversation and charmingly, Seymour formally asked him to be her guide and mentor during his visit to teach her about the custom of honoring one's ancestors. In turn, he formally instructed Tarja to serve Tidus as a trainee of the Temple academy, impressing upon her the honor of his house had by a visit from a member of the imperial family in front of her. Tidus then took a strip of paper off the low table to the maester's left, dipped a writing brush into ink and penned a line of prayer from the 5th chapter of Djevon's Teachings. As he did so, he spoke of the tradition and it's origin to help her understand the gravity of the action. He called her Mistress Tarja, bowed with an admirable grace, gently bade her sit next to him and asked her what line of prayer she would like to have written for the memory tree. She thought a few moments and with proper deference, she slowly recited a line of poetry from her world:

_A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages_

It was a pretty sight to the other visitors, watching the young handsome lord charmingly explain tradition to a blushing pretty trainee; they politely smiled and drifted onwards to the guest rooms and guest houses they had been assigned, escorted by the trainees, all clad in impeccably pressed clean gi and hakama. Tidus was given a guest house within the main compound, one usually assigned to visiting priests and military leaders, which was near the trainee quarters; it was a master work of understatement combined with utter luxury, meant to inspire total clarity of mind and provide a peaceful retreat after a day of complex negotiations through the emotionally laden subjects of Religion and War.

Once off the pebbled pathway, one's feet felt smooth black granite underfoot in the entry courtyard leading to an inconspicuous entrance; pleasantly asymmetrical arrangements of bamboos and bushes gave it an air of seclusion; the floors were dark tatami, not light; warm bronze plaster was applied on walls, and black wood furniture gave greater contrast to the pools of light illuminating alcoves with simple elegant objects; the inner garden had a statue of Djevon in the pose of peace, one hand palm up, lidded eyes gazing serenely into a pond of peaceful blue water; a small stone lantern cunningly set at water level illuminated the little pool, giving serene reflections to meditate upon. The guest house had its own bath, so he would not have to bribe anyone and could smuggle in his little eagle, should she continue to warm to him as she did last night. With a practiced eye, he looked over the bedroom to ensure it was big enough for two, and yes, it was; the coverlet of silk left him imagining how lovely Tarja would look against the shimmering bronze; he immediately began to look for an opportunity to be alone with her to pursue her consent; he thanked his Djevon for luck when she asked if he'd like tea.

In a hospitable and charming gesture to the maester's many guests, the trainees were instructed in tea making. It worked delightfully well to have the simple, but necessary, ritual performed by a personal representative of his without having to wait for him to visit each guest personally, and making everyone wait upon his schedule. Like any other trainee, Tarja may not have had the most delicate of skills yet in tea making yet, but she made up for it when she bowed from her kneeling position by the little brazier, took up the tray with its pot of tea and two cups, and gracefully walked on her knees across the tatami, never spilling a drop, bowing extravagantly, as if he were the son of heaven himself. She broke down and laughed at his look, advising him this was how royalty was served tea on Earth; it eased the tension between them, and he also laughed, holding out his cup to be filled. Suddenly, he decided to drop the plan he had come with, an intense scene of seduction, carried out swiftly and in secret; it seemed rather too much like Yuna than Tidus, now. So he just decided to let it all go and just enjoy himself. He was just happy to not have to posture in the role of consort and wanted to just enjoy a simple holiday from it all.

The genuine admiration in his eyes and lively conversation did more to attract Tarja's attention today than a lover singing praises about her mountain jade eyes; she looked at him with equal admiration; her heart beat faster at the way his mane of gilt glossy hair would move with the slightest move of his head like a bird ruffling its feathers; the slimness of his waist off set by the carefully wrapped Obi recalled the rippling ab muscles gleaming with oil in the bath house; his tactful silence about last night's events intrigued her; the only mention he made of yesterday was the simple comment that he hoped she had not been hurt from his wrestler's tricks. They did converse rather easily for about an hour about martial arts; he thought they could incorporate elements of her style to make a better fighting unit and she could learn more about strategy. She in turn, tactfully replied with appreciative assent, but kept quiet about her knowledge, not wishing to break the peaceful mood between them. Regretfully, the gong announcing the hour of sunset came sooner than later, which left them only half of an hour to change and walk to the great veranda at the back of the main tower house of the compound.

As soon as she left the guesthouse to let him change for dinner, he berated himself for not giving her the gift he had stowed in his Obi earlier that day; as Tarja waited outside his door with a small lantern to escort him, he shrugged and stuck it back in his Obi as he left to see the first entertainments offered at maester Seymour's O-Bon.

Everyone agreed it was a spectacular start to the festival: Celebration began at twilight, Tarja escorting him to outdoor seating, some seats under the great veranda lining the entire length of the back of the main house, some under stars on small raised platforms, two tatami wide and luxuriously piled with pillows for those who wished to recline in the old manner; small lanterns by the hundreds lined the walking paths, all carefully planned to appear as a single large design of a lotus flower in bloom, the symbol of inner peace. Guests were given incense sticks to set off the bonfire, Seymour leading the dignified walk around the bonfire pit, all guests moving in step with each other, touching folded hands to heart and forehead after the incense stick was thrown into the oiled wood to catch fire with a sweet clean smell of white flowers and cedarwood that the maester had blended himself.

A delightful feast of all white foods ensued, grilled in little braziers by the servants near each group of tables and then ran to the guests by the trainees, now clad in spotless white gi tops, still snapping and sputtering from the charcoal grill: immense white prawns split and seasoned with only sea salt and tart acidic yuzu juice, a variety of south sea ocean fish only known as ono - 'delicious', which was skewered with twigs of a sharply aromatic herb and brushed with white peach liquor as it charcoaled over open flame; pretty skewers of pearl onions and mushrooms carved like crowns; then a palate cleansing salad of shredded white radish, crisp sprouts and white asparagus cleverly touched with white sesame oil infused with a single ghost chili pepper preceded a stunning dessert of white peaches from the maester's orchards, carefully skinned and set to spinning in enormous clear glass goblets of fizzing sparkling white wine with a single white rose petal stamped in silver leaf with the symbol of inner peace floating on top.

As the guests rose in applause at the supreme delight of the dessert course, Taiko drummers took their place by enormous drums and on signal, began to beat with a steady rhythm, twirling their sticks with great verve and soon intensified the beat into a thundering rhythm with beautiful poses as groups of white lights were seen across the little lake then started to eerily move towards the party.

The drummers beat themselves into a frenzy as boats drifted up to the shore, ghostly, veiled in spangled netting, their oars muffled for maximum impact. Figures clad in white, some wrapped in sheer veils, some glittering with brilliants, all made up in white face paint and shimmering white hair in extraordinary arrangements disembarked with slow movements and awkward gaits like dead people risen from the grave. They leapt and giggled madly, or chittered and moaned as they moved into the ring around the bonfire. The drummers went silent for a full four counts, then broke into a new beat, overlaid with a chanting choir and wild strings to accompany the wild dance of the dead that ensued.

A crackle of fireworks ended the show; the guests, servants and trainees all showed a gratifying enthusiasm for the performance, several of the aristocrats throwing bags of coin to the grinning, sweating performers. The party began to break up, some staying to dance around the bonfire embers to the single sweet zither being plucked in the distance, some drinking and catching up with each other, while others retired to sleep or make a tryst with a lover.

Tarja had done her best to be attentive to Tidus and he had enjoyed the evening, reminded of nothing and nobody for once. She knew the evening was young for people his age, mentally ran over the list of possible private parties he might like to join, then asked him what was his pleasure next.

"A bath with you would give us pleasure now, I think."

Nervous, she took refuge in formality, thinking she has misunderstood his Spirean, and perhaps more nervous that she hadn't. She evenly replied: "Of course, I will be glad to ensure your bath is ready; please allow me to leave for a few minutes and see to the servants for you; I will come get you when all is ready. Do you require a male valet?"

Amused he replied: "No, I thought you were mine for the next two days; didn't they instruct you on how to bathe with a guest?"

Her silence brought a laugh to his lips and he let her off the hook saying: "Relax, Tarja! A bath is not an offer to a bed! I just would enjoy some relaxation; I've been tense lately, and so have you. And besides, I enjoy our conversations. Come, now, what do you say?"

" I…I admit I have been…tense, Tidus-san. Perhaps we could discuss it a bit more when we get to the guest house? I… I think I've been too much for you to teach without disturbing your…um…inner peace?" She stumbled, ending the statement on a questioning note, as she could not recall the Spirean or Korean or Japanese word for that phrase.

"You mean my _Pyeong-sae?_ Oh. No…I have far different answer for you; come. We need to talk, and away from large ears." Tidus rose from his brocade pillow on the dais, bowed to the remaining two guests at the end of the table, whom were engrossed in a lively discussion over their racing horses and slurping wine like it was water.

The pathways back were still delightfully lit, and water sprinkled liberally on the plants, so everything had a subtle sparkle reflecting the golden glow of the lanterns. Tidus felt her hand gently laid upon his arm as she stepped over a puddle of water, so her carefully pressed hakama would not get wet at the hem; he took it in courtier's move and held her hand the rest of the way to the guest house.

"So, here we are." He caught her eyes in the mirrored wall in the sitting area, then held his hand out for her to come to the mirror. He drew her closer and bade her: "Look. How can I not look at you and smile inside? Life has been a lot more interesting with you in it than not. There are things we don't understand about each other, but perhaps if you'd just relax your guard and let yourself be a woman for a moment, it might not be so hard for you here."

"I am a trainee for a warrior, not a trainee for a courtesan - just how am I supposed to behave? I….I don't understand you sometimes."

He shrugged and carefully said: "Who says you have to be one way or another? You are in a unique position here; you can become whatever you want, since you're not Spirean. Perhaps you need to learn more about the role of a woman on Spirea before you choose to be a warrior. As it is, I think you're a warrior with an incredible talent; as a woman, you've charmed me to the point of even buying you a gift, without even a kiss passing our lips – do you have any idea of the effect you have on men here? Why do you think they stare at you so? Why do you think they did not simply let you jump that day?"

"I…I don't know, Tidus-san. Perhaps it's pretty obvious I'm not a local?"

A ripple of silky, sexy, seductive laughter chimed in the room. "Oh, my. Look again in the mirror. Meditate all night if needed. Don't you want to see what gift I have for you?"

She bowed deeply, then started with the traditional refusal, saying: "Tidus-san you do me too much honor, since when did I deserve a gift for anything I have done for you? I thank you and the-"

He cut into her twofold refusal and softly said: "I have a gift for the lady, not the trainee; how will I give it to you if you insist on being the warrior, Washiita?" He waited for any sign or word to tell him what direction to take; she slowly exhaled, and looked at his eyes reflected in the mirror; her own thawed from glacial mountain melt to liquid mercury, a soft blush appearing on her cheeks at last. He now smiled at their reflection, now more suitably matched to be man and woman. Slowly, carefully, never breaking eye contact, he slipped his arms under hers, his body just brushing her kimono; she could feel the heat of his body through the layers of silk and wondered if he felt her heartbeat, which seemed loud as thunder in her ears; his lean hands dipped inside her obi and his gift was gently slid in and left to peep out, as it was meant to be seen.

It was a _jangdo_ , the short blade which everyone wore, with a hilt-guard of two eagles above the wicked beaten steel; Tidus had a stylized symbol of two feathers in a circle inlaid in the black lacquer of the scabbard, again paying a dear price for mountain jade the exact shade of twilight; the visit to the jeweler's shop yesterday had been a ruse, another small act of defiance to Lady Yuna.

He neither took her in his arms nor stepped away from her; he simply stood still, letting her feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, near her back and in his eyes. _Always gain acceptance before introducing a new intimacy; too many at once will seem like intrusion, not seduction_ , his mind reminded him, an echo of the old master's patient tone surfacing. _But Djevon? He never told me how intoxicating it could be…no wonder some men go insane from desire…_ He allowed himself one more breath, inhaling the warm summer scent of her hair and sweetly commented near her ear before drifting away:

"So. Now you can really carve my heart out at the next rondori."

She opened her mouth and shut it as quickly as he shut the shoji doors to his bath. _That man knows entirely too much about women,_ she waspishly thought. … _And you're a woman, last time you looked; why run from it?_ Her heart asked.

She had no idea how long she stood there, her heart pounding, before walking forward, opening the shoji and shutting it before she had the chance to run. Tidus was lying in the bath in a relaxed pose, eyes closed with his head on the pool's black granite rim, the hot water soaking into his limbs like honey. He spoke without opening his eyes: "I'm glad you stayed – this bath is too good not to share with a friend. Hang your clothes on the hook to the left and there's oil, if you want it."

He was right; the heat was intense, but not suffocatingly so; it sent tendrils of warmth into her, filling her with a dark bloom of relaxation. She sighed in pleasure as the hot water did its magic, loosening mental knots as well as physical ones. A splash made her open her eyes nervously, thinking he was going to try and move in on her, but no, he was merely ducking his head to let the warm water soothe it also. Relaxed, she observed her surroundings, idly noting the understated luxuries the maester had so carefully planned for his guests: the black granite pavers were smooth, setting off the deep blue of the glazed tiles lining the little pool. Boulders placed with pretend naturalism around the pool made for a pleasing asymmetrical balance of nature and man-made against the walls. One shoji was open to the little garden where the stone lantern was reflecting in the shimmering water and the peaceful Djevon hung over, seeming to secretly smile on them from her perspective. No flowers bloomed, but the plants were a study in contrast and texture, with one miniature _astanga_ tree hanging over the edge of a pot that came up to her waist just outside the shoji door. She idly commented: "I wonder what the maester's personal suite must be like – this seems so beautiful already."

"I've heard his bath is a replica of a mountain inn by the famous springs of Adana – he even imported boulders from there and a cedar from a cliff 200 feet up, just because he liked the way it grew– he is a very cultured man, with very cultured tastes, as you will see over the next two days. - But wait for an invitation to the imperial palace, Tarja! The women's bath house holds a bath as big as my dining room and has a waterfall, lined with quartz from Zanarkand."

A comfortable silence ensued for while and Tarja felt emboldened enough to ask him: "So….what happens after the bath? Do I stay the night?"

"No. You dry off and go to sleep in your own bed."

"Then that's all you want? Just a…bath?"

"No…but that's as far as I want to go with you tonight, Tarja. The Art of Love sutras teach us not to hurry through relations, but to enjoy them; and-"

"Love? You have _lessons_ in love?"

"Why, yes. Don't you on Earth? Ah. I see. You do, but not like here. Well. I see I shall have to give you another gift tomorrow - and lessons. Now, go dry off, and get some sleep. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, Mistress Tarja. You will be my trainee to explore the other side of life, as a woman on Spirea. "

 


	7. Chapter 7

The morning sun breaking through the little garden and throwing playful beams on his bed set the mood for Tidus' day. He woke up clear-headed and rested; he nearly ran to the dojo in the early summer light and joined the guard in the morning salutation exercises, as the trainees cleaned rooms, prepared baths and food for the guard inside the keep. He just managed to get back, shower and dress himself before his trainee escort arrived. He had torn through his gift boxes until the one he wanted was sitting before him as he peacefully meditated on the Djevon in the garden. She looked fresh and lovely in the morning light, her gi and hakama wrapped tightly around her figure and freshly pressed. The jangdo was carefully placed in the obi on the left side; the 2 feather sigil was a huge amusement to the guard, whom furiously placed more bets on Tidus' courtship of the little eagle. After ritual bows and greetings were given, he indicated her gift was to be opened and in the box lay a copy of the Art of Love, with illustrations by Otori Aisiwara. A common enough gift during O-Bon, but Tidus had planned a few more surprises for her later that were uncommon.

After meeting the other guests for the first meal of the day, Tidus approached the maester and pulled him aside to talk: "Seymour, I am so glad you invited me! I haven't felt this relaxed in so long! Um…speaking of relaxed, I think I've found out something about our newest trainee. We've been so intent on teaching her things like Spirean language and warrior arts, we forgot to teach her how to behave like a lady; she has no idea what being a woman on Spirea is really like, in a way. Do you want her to remain innocent of the role she can have? She is your trainee – I leave it for you to say."

Seymour's eyes gave nothing away, except a mild amusement at the question, while his mind furiously weighed the possible outcome against the risks and at the same time, laughing inside: _Oh by the balls of Djevon! I thought he'd have bedded her by now! Either she is a hard mountain of fear to scale, or he is in_ _too deep under Yuna's influence…hmmm...should I show a little reluctance? No…the events may not fall into place if he does not break his current path. At least he is well mannered enough to ask, that is a telling point – maybe the society's influence has not touched him as deeply as his father's reports say._ "Tidus-san, every lesson learned will be helpful to her." Then shockingly: "Even if getting between her legs helps to get in between her ears, do it. Do it, man. I prize the little eagle in my nest – she has true potential, Tidus-san." _…And I fear you will not live to see another O-Bon If you do not, son of my closest friend._

Tidus' ears rang and his heart felt a stab of fear at the word: "Potential?"

"Yes! – Ah! Lord Ichihara-san! Most certainly, I will be right over! " - His crystal blue eyes now sharp with unspoken warnings he quietly finished with: "Tidus-san, I do for the good of the empire, not for any selfish desire. Trust me. I will send for you– my code will be to discuss next O-Bon – only you, no other. Large ears are close now. " Then chameleon-like, melted into the most charming smile and pitching his voice to carry a bit: "Start the lessons with the Art of Love!"

Bemused on the walk back to his guest house, Tidus thought over the man's bald affirmation that bedding his protégé was not only expected, but encouraged, and smelling something deeper than mere lessons to prepare for a life as a warrior for the court, he went out on a limb and decided to trust Seymour. After all, she was a rare delicacy, almost totally unspoiled or warped by the society she found herself in, and a seriously sharp weapon to boot. He placed his bet on his father having an interest and angered as all bastards are at their father, he said to himself – _Oh yes, father mine, you can have her, IF you can get her from me. You may find yourself in a war with me over this little eagle. Heh, she might even scratch your greedy little eyes out if she prefers my hand to yours._ And so, with enthusiasm, he began the first of his sutras, just like his old master:

"Tarja? Can you tell me what love is?"

"Yes, it's a feeling."

"No. It's whatever we make it mean – Now, open the book and turn to the first chapter and read it aloud, please."

The beautiful summer day was spent outdoors; Tidus preferred the natural world as back drop to illustrate his dialogues, vs. a blank shoji screen; besides, vainly, he knew he looked his best when the sun hit his mass of golden blonde shagged hair and golden brown skin, giving greater contrast to his Zanarkand cobalt blue eyes, which were already sparkling with enough manly charm to make even a hardened courtesan's heart beat faster. He was glad he had dressed with care and had the house sigil of the imperial house; other guests of the maester's noted it, and some made up their minds to make acquaintance of the handsome blonde with the slim trainee with astonishing eyes of twilight jade.

After conversations with other guests were over, Tidus lost no time in pointing out to Tarja how the women and men interacted with manners and mutual respect; he teasingly translated the hidden language of gestures from the third chapter as they observed a jewel of Djevon, a dainty creature with hair piled high, delicately walk past a group of men in her kimono of vivid ombred pink silk and jeweled thongs; the touch of a flower in the glossy purple black as she glided by brought attention to the entrancing set of her head, almost tilted back from the weight of the luxurious weight of her tresses and the soft expanse of skin exposed by the gentle dip at the back of the robe, dusted with pearl powder to gleam invitingly; the gesture, which translated, said to one of them: _I recognize you; I accept your attention._ Her demurely serene gaze caught the man with a fan unfurling it, then snapping it shut with flip of his wrist to the pretty pavilion near the lake sending the silent message: _I want to meet you - at the pavilion._ She then gently downcast her eyes in an oh, so innocent, yet sensual manner as she crossed the path of a pair of servants, who somehow ran into each other, dropping silk pillows they were setting out for a lunch outdoors in the great veranda.

"…and that, _Washiita_ , is the effect you manage to make on men without any training - Imagine how you would slay cities of men, If you should choose to learn these arts!" His memory flashed back to the heart-stopping glance she had given him striding in a line of captives and he chillingly thought: _…And how you nearly killed me without even knowing it…_

Demurely, innocently, she replied: "Slaying cities of men would soon deplete the world of Spirea very quickly – how about I try for just one at a time? " _Starting with you, you handsome bastard. How come you didn't offer for me that first night? Why did it have to be Yamashita, and not you?_

Laughing, he said: "I am about ready to die, Washiita...of hunger! Come, let us eat.”

He escorted her to a seat, handling her with ease and talking her through sitting down gracefully in a kimono vs. hakama.

"But I'm not wearing a kimono, Tidus-san!"

He grinned and said: "You will be…Tonight!"

They ate lightly from the tables set up in the cool shade of the teakwood porch; the meal was deliberately simple, to keep appetites fresh, as feasting Spirean style took stamina – it could last from the proscribed three courses in two hours, or all night long, like the new year's eve celebrations, with a never ending succession of trays and platters of food, delightfully arranged to please all five senses. After the rest from his dialogue on the sutras from the Art of Love, he walked her to the bath house and lordly, consulted privately with the attendants, then gently pushed her into their giggling midst and threw over his shoulder: "Don't you dare be a minute later than the hour before sunset." he threw a dazzling smile at them for effect, followed by another throw, this time a rather generously weighted bribe, which was caught with delighted squeals and belling laughter of the knowing girls. All bath house girls were a bit naughty, as they had been privy to some of the most torrid affairs of the heart. They were also the most sacrosanct of the trades, never disrespected in public, and could be counted upon to keep a secret to the grave. So, Tarja was left to their merciless attention, while Tidus strode free to compose his own thudding, excited, happy heart for the next sutra: That Of Which Is Sensual.

To the day she died, Tarja would carry the memory of that long golden afternoon as one of the most erotic moments of her life: she arrived on time; the maids had her dressed in a pretty yukata , indigo butterflies on white, with her hair simply dressed; some of it swept back and up off her face and left dangling in the back in thick curving locks, while two more in front softened her exquisite face, now lightly touched with an angel's breath of golden pearl powder; they had boldly drawn a dramatic eye to bring out her unusual eye color, with sooty eyelash black and smudged lines blending seamlessly with a deeper shade of blue-lavender; they left her lips alone, just a light gloss of oil to keep them soft, thinking he'd be crushing them in a kiss by now; but no, Tidus was schooled by the best.

She was kissing clean from head to foot, polished and groomed to an inch of her life, but had not been perfumed at his instruction; the clean scent of _astanga_ resin soap somehow fit her better, a reminder of the cold heights that eagles fly. He silently took her hand and placing another at her waist, led her to his bedroom, where he had the kimono laid out, then just as gently, tilted his head and waited. Shaking, she stepped out of her sandals, untied the obi sash and he slowly drew off the yukata. He showed no trace of nervousness or boorishness that men fell into at the sight of a lovely woman without any clothing on; his eyes were definitely filled and he made no effort to hide the fact he enjoyed the sight of her, but evenly kept his desire in check. He took his time looking at her, whole set of his lean body relaxed yet showing a deep excitement as he took in the long limbs, the perfect cup of her breasts, hair brushed to golden brown streaky silk; his eyes warmed appreciably at the sun-browned skin smoothed to satin and slim, well curved hips.

Finally gaining the courage to raise his eyes to her face he regarded her with a gaze that somehow bespoke of something shy below the surface of a civilized aristocrat and quietly spoke with sincerity:

"Beautiful. Just beautiful. And a woman I see. "

He pulled the white under kimono off the bed and began to dress her in it , sensuously sliding the featherweight silk up her arms , his hands only separated by a mere layer of fabric; The feeling of the soft silk sliding against her newly polished skin was a revelation and it showed in her face as he drew it closed and tied it off, his hand sliding around her hip in an appreciative caress; the black silk brocade kimono was drawn on just as slowly; it pleased Tidus to see how she felt written on her face, unconsciously begging more; almost as tenderly as a dominant binds his submissive in preparation for the pleasure of the submissive, Tidus wrapped the pure white obi with its geometric pattern of sparkling white beads tightly about her waist, showing off not the just its narrowness, but the perfection of the curve of her lush hips and sweet swell of breasts encased in finest silk. As he knelt before her pulling the silk Obi tight enough to make her gasp, the thought of Tidus erotically burying his blonde head between her legs as the image in mirror playfully suggested nearly overwhelmed her and she turned her eyes away before the image became addiction. Since peonies were out of season, a lavender-blue lotus blossom was placed in the knot of hair to ornament it, and his fan of black eagle feathers was slipped into place beside the jangdo. She stepped into a pair of black sandals to complete her first full dress kimono.

Tidus drew her to the mirrored wall and had her look; it reflected an image of an aristocratic lord with a lady, a pair that would excite the most jaded of palates. For a moment she felt like she belonged in this world, and belonged by Tidus' side. She shyly smiled and shot a speaking look of pure happiness at his eyes in the reflection. The heart of Tidus suddenly held a gleam of happiness, which bubbled up and reached his eyes; which prompted him to say:

"We do look the part, don't we? I think you'll hold up for an evening. Now. Let's see if I can keep my jangdo sheathed tonight, _Washiita_."

The feast was in the dining hall tonight and despite its large size, it felt intimate, warm with rich woods; some were inlaid with each other and the even grain polished to dark gleam, coffered insets in the dark beams showed an extraordinary burled golden brown wood, intricately patterned as the heavy brocades in the pillows that everyone sat on. Lanterns with painted scenes of revelry were hung by the dozens, illuminating the maester's head table, and the space before it was kept cleared for the entertainment by four servants clad in purple gi. Further out, the light became much softer, as small lanterns flickered on smaller tables with more intimate seating. Music was playing, more a soft breath of sound to color the air, vs. an orchestral performance; acrobats and circus performers preceded the feast, dressed as grasshoppers, dragonflies and butterflies, jumping and diving with great cracks and snaps of silk gauze wings. When they reached the maester's table, upon signal, ribbons were pulled by certain servants positioned about the room, and drifts of cut paper confetti, some gilt, some treated with phosphorescent paint, fluttered down, showering the delighted guests with a delicate imitation of glowing fireflies descending in the evening. Servants appeared in plenty and brought by tray after tray of extraordinary creations from the kitchens; some were symphonies of contrasting tastes and all were carefully arranged like mandalas on the black platters.- pink, black and fresh green brought grilled meat sliced paper thin and arranged to look like flower petals on curry leaf; a tray of green could be a variety of green fruits: grapes, apples, kiwi, sweet melons, freshly cut and arranged in clever dragon's scales for luck; but unlike last night, wine and liquor was served in plenty from start to finish.

She tried to serve him at first, but he shook his mane, and playfully refused, stating this was her night of lessons, and the lesson was to learn to accept pleasure. Tidus had an immense amount of fun, feeding her bites of things she never knew existed on the planet, even letting her taste some of the fiery liquors from the cold north. He drank nothing but water himself the rest of the evening, after teaching her how to do the drinking game over three thimbles of black Aki, another liquor distilled from leftover charred sugarcane stalks left in field after harvest. The taste was mellowed by the process, turning the sharp cloying smell of burnt sugar into a complex caramel-like bouquet with notes of nuts and sweet dark cherries.

Later in the evening, Tidus leaned back against the pillows, Tarja's head on his arm as they idly watched the dragonfly dancers in a darting acrobatic dance; then watched the revelers satiate themselves; with some, greed was a matter well practiced and tonight was a special indulgence. A few were carried out in chairs, having drunk themselves to the state of passing out, or eaten so much they had fallen asleep. Of course, Tidus had some wicked commentary, telling stories, translating the signals of seduction and laughing at Tarja's attempts, which usually ended up as ridiculous stories of assignations with improbable lovers or spouses. A group of men two tables distant were quite on the lookout for party-mates afterwards; they were a boisterous, good natured lot, despite being aristocratic spoiled creatures, and meant no harm. A tall young man with dark hair that was neatly tied in a tasseled silk tail kept craning his head over his shorter companions every few minutes to catch Tarja's eye, fascinated by the stranger in a sleek silk gown, a toothsome bare leg glimpsed from the right hand slit in her kimono and a dainty waist that appeared no bigger than a hand span due to optical illusion of a white Obi tied with breathtaking tightness over the black of the robe. Tidus began to tease her, asking if she was flirting when his eyes turned away and in mock jealousy, bemoaned his blonde head compared to the black-purple tassel.

"Go ahead, do it. See if you can make him spill his wine goblet." He wickedly whispered.

He pushed his goblet in her hands and she rose languorously, like the 'twining of the creeper', as he had taught her earlier. Eyes turned in admiration as conversation grew louder to cover the obvious attraction to the vision of beauty walking past them to fill her lord's cup; as she glided by, she downcast her eyes demurely, long black lashes sweeping a creamy brown cheek now stained with the faintest rose. As she returned, the little knot of young bloods had turned to watch her as one, still chattering; then she flashed her extraordinary mercury blue irids through a corner of the enchantingly set eyes, a mere hint of a dimple in her cheek. A halt in the chatter occurred; and true to Tidus' challenge, the tall tassel-head on the left poured the contents of his goblet on the floor as if he had nothing else in the world to pay attention to, except that exquisitely fine figure receding, bearing a filled jade cup back to Tidus. Tidus lazily caught his eye, leaned back and wickedly twitched an eyebrow with a hint of a smile and accepted his cup from his delicious protégé. She sat with the same grace by him and smiled in delight at having accomplished a walk without tripping on the train of the kimono. Even more wickedly, knowing the young blood's eyes were glued to Tarja's face, Tidus picked up his silver chopsticks, chose a piece of fruit carved like a flower bud and fed it to her adoringly, whispering: "Success! It was a waterfall!" The dark eyes of the young men greedily drank in the supremely erotic moment of Tarja's delicate pink mouth accepting a morsel from a man's hand; each groaned inside, wishing it were their hand, doing the spoiling of the beauty.

The evening had been one exercise after the other in experiencing sensuality, from the smallest hints of pleasure at lovely surroundings, to complete pleasure of the five senses; all that remained was the pleasure of the soul. And he was going to do that for her tonight, later, if she would let him. Tarja was drunk with it all, and simply awed, clung to her mentor, eagerly responding to each of the lessons of enjoying sensuality. As the hour grew late, the feasters became more and more obvious in their pleasures; some outright acts of sex were taking place in the back of the room, where the table lanterns flickered dimly out of the circle of the hanging lanterns near the host's dais. There was a breathless panting excitement in the air, as ladies and gisas made their assignations with the male guests they had discreetly flirted with earlier in the day. The maester had gently removed himself some thirty minutes earlier with the guests at his table to further pursue private talk and pleasure of a more refined sort. Tarja became anxious and widened her eyes as Tidus firmly refused to leave, flatly stating:

"You need to see this."

He appeared to idly drink, but the goblet was filled with water, not wine, his eyes wary, waiting for the inevitable next event. It came in the form of another young blood; drunk on wine infused with lotus root, he fell upon Tarja and began a very obvious invitation to join her and his fellows in their bathhouse, a generous bribe clinking in a brocade bag. He remembered his manners a bit late and turned to Tidus and asked if he could spare the lotus blossom for the evening and hinted at a good time to be had by another gisa, Mikko, whom was the toast of the Inn of the 4 Awnings last summer. Tidus appeared bored, saying: "It is for the Lady to say, not I. I'm just the consort. " The not-so charming blood reached forward and gently began to tickle Tarja under her chin and entice her to rise. She sat still; emboldened, he gently let his fingers drift down, intending to capture handful of breast, but suddenly whitened under his deep bronze of his rather handsome high cheeked face.

Tarja's jangdo hovered above her breast, blade up; it was either remove the hand, or have fingers sliced off. "No, I thank the lord; but No." was gently breathed in the young blood's ear. Tidus leaned forward and placed a hand on the young man's; it appeared to be friendly, but Tidus' grip was iron hard; Tidus pleasantly said: "Forgive the bluntness of the lady's reply, but No is…No. Enjoy Mikko. She is the best. Tell her Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii remembers her sweet voice, please?" Inwardly tickled , and now in an outright bastard mood, Tidus gently placed a hand under Tarja's chin and ever so gently inspected her for damage as the shaken man bowed his escape, this time with real respect, and not just at the imperial name dropped in his ear. Leaning further in, Tidus let his mouth graze where the other intrusive hand had touched, giving the appearance of an adoring caress to his favorite jewel of Djevon.

 

"How like you my gift now, lady?" he laughed against her throat, and leaned back. "Do you understand the lesson? Good. See the effect you can have on men? We will discuss it in the morning. Come, let us go, before a horde of them lose their fingers."

The bath was again a delightful haven from the world of drunken O-Bon feasters and they both sighed in contentment and occasionally smiled at each other as they overheard snatches of revelry from by passers on the pathway; Tarja felt less nervous around Tidus and soon was sitting next to him in the deepest part of the little pool, letting the heat burn into their bones as they cheerfully gossiped about the guests at the party. She had even been unabashedly self-forgotten as she undressed for the bath, sighing almost regretfully at the fact she was no longer gowned so extravagantly: the outer kimono and Obi had been easy to wear once she learned to handle the weight of the fabric when moving. She thanked him prettily, at which Tidus laughed and teased her with: "Oh? If you were so regretful of being undressed, why did you drop that pretty robe so fast? Is that all you want from me? Just a… bath?" the last line delivered with her exact inflection of last night, of course.

"No…" Tarja stopped, horrified at herself, flustered; she had intended it as a jab of humor back at him, imitating his reply from last night, but it suddenly sank in that he was talking about real intimacy last night.

"Good. I was hoping I'd you'd prefer me over that drunken idiot tickling your chin…Tarja? What is wrong?"

"It's just that I never thought that…ahh...I am the alien here…I'm not sure if…if…we're…um…compatible."

"I think that's not the issue. What is it, truly?"

"I…I've been through – it's so long since…maybe…maybe…I…can't feel anymore."

"I can make you feel very good, If you'd let me."

He said the last statement with such an absolute sense of confidence, it made her blink. Let him! Her heart insisted. Instead of an answer, she simply shrugged and politely murmured: ”Umm...I’ll think about it…”

“When you can tell me what you really want, I’ll do it for you, Mistress Tarja-san.”

Tidus simply smiled to himself for the rest of the evening bath, as he slowly drifted in the water near her, a devoted master teaching his student in the sutra of learning to accept pleasure.

He awoke early the next morning after he’d sent Tarja back to the guard’s quarters after the bath almost laughing at her confused expression; he was feeling a bit off step too, as normally, a lady would be the one to take the initiative and tell him what she wanted of him. He did the morning salutation with guard, pleasantly surprised at the increased cordiality the guards exhibited, especially by the head archer, who apparently had banked heavily on Tidus; his cousin had been on the sortie at mount Gazgaret and told him of that it was Tidus that had charmed Tarja off the cliff; Ainjin had kept that bit of information to himself, bet a month's pay and it paid off handsomely.

Tidus dawdled for a few minutes, hoping to see his little eagle, but there was no sight of her. Disappointed, he returned to his guest house. Ainjin grinned and went to find Tarja, ready to tease her back into Tidus' arms.

He returned to the bedroom to dress himself after a shower and caught his breath with a joyful bound of his heart when the shoji slid open, as his mood, which under his playful, aristocratically jaded surface was actually one more tender: he had found himself wishing to be reassured she was happy with him.

She had heard that he had waited for her after salutations, while she was helping to set out the guard's clean uniforms for the day, and as soon as she was done, she ran to the little guest house. Her whole being was much more relaxed, her eyes were no longer wary and dilated as a wild bird's. She bowed and began to dress him in his clean clothes, bringing a neatly pressed hakama, then the short white under-gi and light steel grey-blue silk over-gi, carefully wrapping Obi and bringing his own jangdo to slip in.

When pouring tea, at the first meal of the day under the great veranda, she tended him carefully, then shyly spoke his name when no one else appeared to be listening: "Tidus? Thank you – for everything yesterday; you are a very patient man; and…I really liked, no, I enjoyed last night. You…were…a wonderful teacher. I see I have something to learn, too. But I do have a question: What…what about your pleasure? "

Eyes flat, he replied with the bare minimum: "What about it?"

Puzzled, Tarja took in his guarded appearance and shrugged, thinking her Spirean wasn't right. Next, she simply, bluntly asked: "How do you expect me to please you? How do I give you pleasure, Tidus? You do understand me, right?"

Shocked, he stared at her for a full 15 seconds, mouth hanging open; he shut it, opened it to speak and shut it again, a blush staining his cheeks until he looked down, away from those beautiful blue lavender eyes filled with something more, far more, kind than the arrogant lust he had been forced to satiate for years of his young life.

He looked up again through his lashes to see if he was mistaken, but no – she still held her gaze warmly, steadily. His eyes softened, and Tarja was stunned by the momentary boyish look of tenderness in his eyes, shining with unshed tears. He shook himself and covering his near emotional breakdown, he reached for his jangdo, idly examining it until he could speak without choking. The voice came out husky, any trace of his haughty patrician manner gone:

"Forgive me. I don't recall anyone asking me that question before."

_ME! She wants to please ME! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I always hoped there'd be one, just one, on this planet – Hey! wait a minute! She's not from here! Oh Djevon, how funny is that!_ Hysterical laughter threatened to burst out of his mouth; he realized his god, his Djevon, had listened to him all along - he had granted his prayer screamed out to the stars on a lonely night - and, somewhere, the god must be laughing.

"Tidus? …Tidus? – are you unwell? Look at me, please! People are beginning to notice! Tidus!?"

He looked up, and broke out into an awesomely blinding smile, sweet as a beam of sunlight slicing through a storm cloud and then took her hand, gently kissing it, careless of what anyone thought before finally speaking:

"Mistress Tarja-san, again forgive me! I think I just had a revelation from Djevon now!"

"Oh? And what did he say?" She asked, now suspicious.

"Laugh, because I surely am, from my bright blue heaven!"

The day was well spent, doing nothing useful, preoccupied with the newfound feelings in each other, aimlessly walking through the estate's gardens, paths, and lawns to a peaceful view of the spring, where they idled the golden afternoon with his sutras, resting in a little jewel of a pavilion, thoughtfully stocked by the peerless major domo with a soft futon, cotton pillows, and other comforts he deemed necessary to an aristocrat. They reluctantly turned back to the compound at the sound of the bells announcing the hour before sunset.

The evening entertainment was a bit more subdued than last night's indulgent feast, but splendid nonetheless. Maester Seymour recreated a children's story, the Teapot Badger, into a play; the evening was filled with many whimsical, magical things; circus performers balancing themselves on narrow poles, pretty girls contorting themselves into impossible poses, trained animals costumed and even bearing food and drink to the guests. It was meant to be a tender, charming evening, bringing everyone back to the comforts of childhood where magic still existed in one's eyes - and it succeeded admirably. The evening ended in a fatherly blessing by Seymour, with his hope that he would see them again at the next O-Bon. Once back at the little guest house, Tarja charmingly turned to Tidus and asked him : "How can I please you tonight, my lord and master?"

"Oh? Since when am I your lord and master? Hmm…I haven't even been asked yet and she throws herself at my feet!"

"What? I can hardly believe that's a new experience for you, after seeing those bath house girls swoon at your dazzling eyes and even more dazzling back view as you strutted away yesterday! "

"Bath house girls swoon over everyone!"

"Since when are you so modest? I bet you have the skills to be a consort to the entire empire, you sly creature! Maybe I should find another lover, O faithless one!"

A dark flare of anger ignited in his mind and something snapped at the last sentence – the sequence of words reverberated in his ears – he hazed out in his mind, a red mist blotting everything out except the need to obey the orders that were set there by a soft sinister voice. He attacked her, quick as a viper; Tarja simply reacted, diving between his legs to escape the kick aimed at her head; her eyes grew wide when he unsheathed his jangdo and empty eyed, began to hunt her through the guest house; he threw it and missed, but it was a distraction; he was on her while she followed the flight of the knife burying itself in a dark beam by her head.

He delivered a back handed slap to her face and began an unrestrained assault on her, punching and kicking with deadly accuracy. She broke free when he missed the 1st kick, twisting her wrist uragi style, then backed off, leapt at him and wrapped her legs around his waist, causing them to fall on the bed; her arms became a steel band around his chest to block his flailing arms; she hung on, stunned for a moment at the landing; it hurt, but she grit her teeth and told herself: _Think, woman! THINK! Before he kills you!_ Desperate, she began to talk while he struggled against her bindings of flesh and bone:

"Yes, Tidus, yes- I am yours, I'll do anything for you, anything, you are in control, you have total control, Tidus; you have the total power of life or death over me, darling Tidus…"

She kept talking, reassuring him he was the one in control, pitching her voice to keep any fear or pain from creeping in; she knew what was happening was not normal; he had been brainwashed to kill somehow, shrewdly judging someone other than she was the real target – she'd just said a phrase that was common in someone's vocabulary, it was a trigger implanted in his mind. She'd only read about it back on Earth, there had never been any live case studies to observe, they were all dead or in thriller novels.

Her voice eventually bled into his ears through the rush of blood as he mindlessly continued, almost convulsing; it seemed like he was seeing what was happening, but it was far away; he saw streaks of tears on Tarja's face, the red imprint of his hand on her cheek; he screamed against the prison of his brainwashed mind and began to fight with every fiber of his being , reminding himself this was Tarja, she was telling him he was in control, he was going to come back to her, he would never hurt her….after a few minutes more, he looked dazed, the madness leaving his eyes as he stared at his little eagle, his Tarja, now in his face, no longer a distant rag doll to rend and maim into bits. For a long moment they stared at each other; then he laid his head down on her shoulder, exhausted and began to tremble; the trembling turned into shaking sobs; Tarja simply held him until he calmed, then quietly said: "Welcome back. Nothing like taking a trip without leaving the farm, eh?" Tidus gave a short bark and tears trickled on her shoulder as his muffled voice said: "I hurt you. What the hell happened to me? I hurt you –Oh Djevon, how could I ever erase the scar of that?"

"It wasn't you, Tidus. It was someone else. You were trained to do this, and not to me. I just hit the trigger too soon, so to speak. And…I’m not scarred.”

He slowly rolled off her and lay there, thinking: _I am a weapon without even knowing it. How sick is that, to train me to kill another! How? When? Ah….I have it…the herbs! Yuna! I have got to tell Maester Seymour about this. I need my father. But tomorrow. I have to undo some damage here._

He knelt on the bed and very gently took her hands and began to talk; He gave her the option to get the maester, as it was a grave offense in Spirea to have a hand on her. She refused, so he tried to tell her about the drugs he had been dosed with by Yuna, how he had stopped drinking; he related how Yuna had tried to push him to drink again and the absolute terrified look in her eyes when he refused; he tried to describe how he just seemed to snap, and everything seemed unreal, at a distance; the fight he went through to get back to reality and how terrible he felt once he saw the pain he had caused. His quiet voice dropped in shame as he formally apologized for striking a woman. He offered to heal her, if she could trust him to do so, even if it meant she'd never see him again.

Tarja's face hurt, but she knew it would clear by morning and she was sore in some tender places; she was more mentally traumatized than anything else and craved for a tender touch, loving and full of reassurance. Shakily, she shook her head at Tidus, dryly commenting: "That was some wild ride, eh?"

A touch shaky himself, he nodded, then carefully picked her up as if she didn't weigh anything at all and carried her into the bath. He simply held her in the hot water until her head lolled back on his shoulder, and then began to gently trace her body's meridians with his honey gold fingers and apply pressure to the key points his old master had drilled in his memory. After he had done all he could there, he carried her back to bed, combed her hair out, softly reciting the calming sutra and the sutra of forgiveness in the heart until she drifted off to sleep, and his own eyelids grew heavy.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Certainty seldom ruled Tidus' life, but this morning it did. He awoke feeling hopeful. The nightmare had a name, he wasn't slowly going insane, and he knew the maester would help him find a way out of the mental training that had been forced upon him. If there was a way into his mind, then there was a way out.

There was now a way out of the life had been forced into, or at least a safe haven. For years he had been breathing the brimstone of hell, and finally he had a breath of sweet, cool air, fresh as the snow scented breeze hurtling off the heights of Mount Gazgaret. Tarja had done the impossible in his world; she had let him take the lead in intimacy, simply accepted what he had to give with no questions, no orders, no demands, except one: Tell me what you want me to do for you.

He cared not at the half hidden grins of the guard when he walked her to the guard's quarters in the dawn light, holding Tarja's hand to steady her as she jumped over the curb of the dojo ring. They smiled shyly at each other, bowed and went to their separate tasks as if the guards weren't there at all. After she left, the guards whistled and clapped, and a rough, but happy voice called out: "When's the wedding night?" in the traditional tease of lovers and prospective grooms. The morning salutation was done with much vigor and again, Tidus dawdled until his little eagle came flying out of the guard house to him. Possessively, he took her hand like a lady of the court, and slowly walked down the path, summer sunlight warming the cool stones under their feet.

Tidus began to plan how to get out of his consort's contract and thought to first approach his father; he decided to see if Seymour could be go-between and hoped he would help him plead his case. After all, it wasn't like he and Yuna were married. It was a pleasure contract. On cue, a servant walked up to Tidus and Tarja during the first meal of the day and asked him go to the front hall office. His face fell when he recognized the frightened face of his major domo's son. He was given the news that Yuna was on her way back, and the major domo had intercepted her in Bevelle, and felt confident he could keep her there until the midday meal; he advised to be there when she returned, so as not to expose his visit to the maester's. They both were intimate with Yuna's jealous rages.

As they hurriedly packed his clothes in their traveling boxes, Tarja was puzzled by his fear of Yuna and asked: "Why do you jump to her least command? Is a consort like being married? I thought it was for pleasure only or something like that?" She took his frown lightly, and continued: "Look, it really it doesn't bother me that you're stuck in a contract for a while. Just let me know if you really plan to get free of it and I'll see you when I can see you, here at the maester's. "

Tidus felt nothing but impending doom; the early return was fateful and he knew something was wrong. Deep in his heart, he knew his festival was over, and he had had his moment of bliss; a girl that wanted to please him, generously offering a piece of heart and soul that he had begged Djevon to deliver. Now autumn was coming, and the god of summer must be sacrificed in holy harvest; it was the start of the end of the road for him. Suddenly angry at the end of all things good in his life and filled with foreboding that he may not live to see another O-Bon, he lashed out at Tarja:

"Tarja, O-Bon is over. I won't be coming back. It's too dangerous; there is no way will I let anyone suffer over me. Don't fall in love with me, I am just a…summer memory. You'll forget me. I belong to another world. Enjoy the jewel of memory as I will. But for Djevon's sake, stay away."

"You think I would let that woman scare me off? And why can't we be friends, at least? Until your contract expires, or you get out? It can be honorable! We don't have to be lovers. I have ex-boyfriends on earth who were friends. It's not that bad."

"You don't get it, do you? How many real women do you see in a day here on the estate? One, maybe two ladies that visit, right? All the rest are SERVANTS, Tarja- the middle and lower classes – the only woman of rank to live here was Seymour's mother – and let me tell you, she was a formidable power in her day! She was a personal weapon of my father's, skilled in poison, the garrote and naginata! She was killed the same time my mother died."

"This is what I've been trying to warn you of, you idiot of an Earth woman! You are being taught to become a Spirean woman of rank! An assassin, a spy, a master manipulator of the lives you touch! "

"The roles of men and women here are different, Tarja! What did you think this was, some utopia or your pretty blue Earth? Here, we men do the fighting, carry the burden of ruling and justice, the heavy work, as it were; but it is the women who truly rule us; the decisions of the household, the laws, the politics; even the emperor bows to the empress – it is she who directs the matters of state, even its intrigues. Bloodlines are carried through women, not men! A man can stud himself out as much as he wants, but it is a woman's traits that are prized in the marriage arena. So, we men do all we can to make ourselves pleasing. I've been in warrior training since I was old enough to remember, but did you know I was given to the temple for training at age 13 in the sutras!?"

"So…so you are trained to give…pleasure? Like a courtesan? A…a male _gisa_?"

Tidus curled his lip in a fleeting second of disgust and ground out: 'Oh, yes…I've been trained to the best, the highest of high standards! …I give every pleasure, many times and at once!"

"…Sounds like you haven't had much fun in your life, Tidus."

"No. I've never been allowed to please myself; I've…obeyed to the letter. Except last night. I broke all the rules, written and unwritten, by how I behaved with you last night."

Tarja felt her throat tighten as a feeling of pity welled up within her; with a sickening feeling, she realized how the loss of control, his lack of a right to choose his own life was shredding him inside. The knowledge of woman as the dominant role had been right in front of her face, and she had blinded herself to it, viewed this medieval barbaric –samurai world through rose-tinted Earth glasses because that's the way she wanted it.

She understood the feeling of utter helplessness he had and his blind obedience to his abusers. She remembered her study days in the mental health center near the college, and readily recognized the start of what was called the Stockholm syndrome; he was beginning to think he deserved it. She tested his state of mind cautiously with a counselor's question: "What would you do, if you were…free? Free to do exactly what you please?"

"Do you want to please me? Really want to please me?" Taking a deep breath, he spilled it: "Then let me go. Let me find me a way out of this life, or have mercy and just kill me."

"Why? Why is it so important to leave? It doesn't look like you're suffering here. You have wealth, you are ruling class, you have all your limbs and you're not just a fine man, you're a talented man, Tidus. Does it matter who leads?"

Enraged, venomous, his youthful voice a hissing cold tone that rapidly warmed, then escalated into a raw scream of absolute frustration and despair, he sliced the air between them into bits with this:

" I hate it. I hate the life I live; I am a bastard of the imperial son of heaven; I hate him because he agreed to this…this Djevon-cursed life for me! He bows and scrapes to that vengeful spider of a woman, the throne behind the throne, the glorious empress Yu-Shinta, the moon of the kingdom! Bah! More like the chamber pot of puke behind it all! It was she who poisoned my father's ear against me, he sent me away from him! I never had his protection, like the others! I am no better than a common courtesan, playing consort to a horde of useless, vile, arrogant harpies! I am never going to be a man, a real man, because SHE has decided it must be so! She hates me because my father gave my mother his heart, not her, the three faced monster! She wishes she could burn the hair on my head like she had my mother poisoned and burned! And I wear it to remind her I never forget! I was born to lead men, not play the pretty boy whore in this world and she has blocked my every attempt to be anything but being THIS! And…and it's killing me! I want my life! My TRUE life, not this...this…prison!"

Tarja eyed him calmly during his hysterical sobbing tirade, then surprisingly said:

"Ok. Why not?"

He swiveled his head around and looked at her like she was mad.

"Why not take your life back. DO you need permission? Just take it. And be damned to her."

"I'll die. She'll kill me. She always finds a way."

"You're wrong. If you really think that, she's won. You're already dead, inside." Then she passionately cried: "Wake up Tidus, WAKE UP! What are you waiting for, permission to live the life you want? Did she? Take it! SEIZE your life!"

He was silent, staring at her with burning eyes, then slowly turned away, arms crossed. What she said was madness – if he rebelled, he'd be strung up for life as an example of how not to cross the shadow of power behind the throne. He ground out: "Even if I did, how long would I live? A day? What friends do I have? I have no one to watch my back that can match her caliber, you fool!"

"I can. I'll protect you."

"Oh. Right. Are you the empress of California? Did you bring an army of soldiers and a magic weapon from Earth with you?"

"I'm not entirely without resources and talent, even if I'm stuck on this backwater of a planet, sir." Stung by his harsh sarcasm, she said it in a dangerous tone he'd never heard in her voice before, cool and even, supremely, almost arrogantly confident; a tone that sounded horribly familiar and it stopped Tidus dead in his tracks for a moment.

He slowly turned and suddenly, he saw her as the weapon the maester and his father had glimpsed; his heart pounded and he dizzied at the inner revelation that she was just as dangerous , if not more so, than the old snake behind the throne. She was an unknown species, an alien! – Who knew what potential she truly had? For all he knew, she could be another Yu-Shinta back on Earth! And he wanted none of it! He was tired of it all and he wanted to just leave it all behind, the court, the intrigues, everything and just fade away in the far islands of Besaid or the deserts of Zanarkand, disappearing like sand in the wind. He felt an abyss open before him and he decided. She was a woman, like all the others, and not to be trusted. Coldly, he spoke:

"You can't. You don't know these people. You're human, not Spirean. And I don't want protection. I am through with you. You need to leave, now. Forget me. Go back to Earth, or go to court and turn into another assassin for all I care. I am sick of it all. I'm leaving. Now."

It was as if Tidus had hacked her head off in a single katana stroke, leaving the head to topple off, still seeing and hearing; but it was Tarja's heart that had taken the blow. She bled inside and went white, shutting her eyes to his flat death mask, with empty eyes.

_But I love you_.

The shoji slid shut.

_I'd die for you._

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Heartsick after Tidus' departure, Tarja threw self into practice and long walks. Some days she was able to work herself into exhaustion and fall asleep; time after time she drearily wondered if she'd ever get over him. She receded, felt more and more alien to Spirea as the days passed by and longed for home. The guards kept her spirits up with many rough kindnesses, from a clumsy pat with a cup of wine to a group of them offering to just assassinate Tidus, Ainjin licking his feathered flights in anticipation of using his great bow of boxwood. However, the nights grew long with Tidus' absence from the estate.

Lord Seymour began to miss the young lord from the daily life at his estate, but said nothing, hoping Tidus' mood would break after visiting the capital, doing his family duty. Seymour sent reports, and received a series of replies that brought satisfaction to his clear blue eyes, until one packet with the imperial seal arrived. With dismay, he read his closest friend's letter, praising the changes he had seen in his bastard blood for the better, yet noted the growing fear for his safety in between the lines, as he read through the clever observations of Tidus' character changes. The plan they had hatched between them some 12 years ago had run its course; now, it was time to develop new strategies, or let go of a precious piece of his best friend's secret pride and joy to find his own fate.

The days grew shorter, and they all found themselves kicking through piles of golden leaves that reminded them of golden summer afternoons, and a golden head to one mind. One of the older bathhouse girls took pity on Tarja, and walking with her one day in the cool autumn afternoon, took her to her favorite shrine of Djevon and began to teach Tarja the way of "The Many Gates", to empty herself of pain and learn the path of acceptance. It slowly helped, and some days she was able to mediate calmly and feel a little peace. It helped her to relive and replay events, sorting them out in her mind, see she was not to blame; she was just a vessel to do what the universe willed. But it never stopped the longing ache to be in his _washiita_ , his pet…his lover.

One night she wept silently, simply heartbroken at the ending of her first friendship on Spirea. The next day, still longing for the very sight of Tidus, she decided to try and glimpse him at the Inn Of The 4 Awnings; the distance between them had gone on far too long and she felt she must try one last time. If he felt the same disdain, then she would accept, maybe spend the rest of her life accepting, but she would lay it down and walk away.

She got a lift into town with a lord who had sent his son to be trained with the guard this winter and kept to the edges of the marketplace and away from the aristocrat's compounds. Surprised, she saw Lady Yuna's carriage roll down the street by the inn and foolishly started to walk after it. After fifteen minutes' walk, she saw the carriage peeping out from the portico of a non-descript house on an even more non-descript street.

Curious, Tarja crept in the gate, and walked around the dwelling; she was puzzled why Lady Yuna would live here, as the area was certainly not in the upper circle of Bevelle's finest neighborhoods; it seemed deserted, but soon three figures left by the side portico, softly talking; she flattened herself against the wall of the house and slid forward to catch any conversation.

"-next to the gate; we will send more herbs; do not forget to increase the dose twofold the week before the festival. Send word through the usual channel if you do not see the changes in his body, we will advise you or send different herbs; sometimes the sleeping dragon does not work well on men his age – too much Yang in them, eh?"

A cackle of laughter swept through them like dry leaves, hyenas, or chittering ghosts from a summer O-Bon fire. A younger voice spoke, silky and refined: "I will obey – I look forward to the new moon festival! What pleasures and power we will have!"

"Aye! Go, with our blessing. You have been the most obedient of the obedient, Lady."

"Would you like to ride in my carriage back to the main road today?"

The two older women, hatted and cloaked, hesitated, then bowed agreement; it was a cold day, and they were suitably anonymous in their garb. Lady Yuna whistled with her little silver whistle on her wrist and two coachmen came from the kitchen entrance on the other side; Tarja threw herself on the ground and burrowed behind an evergreen bush by the door, praying she would not be seen. Luckily, they had been drinking, and had hats on against the cold as well. She darted into the kitchen, jangdo in hand.

The kitchen was deserted, not even a fire had been lit to keep the coachmen warmed – _no wonder they were drinking,_ Tarja thought. It was a large room, suitable for preparing feasts; books and scrolls of recipes had their own niche against the far wall, and several enormous platters lined the upper shelves. A door was partially ajar, which threw a beam of dusty light on its contents, which were practically none; the walls, floor and ceiling were lined with ceramic tiles and held just a scarred wooden table and rows of hooks lined the far wall, like a cold larder. A faint smell of decay and flat metallic minerals gave her pause; she couldn't quite identify the scent, so familiar. She wandered back to the recipe niche, and began to idly pull out scrolls to see what fine foods had been prepared here in the past. Most were fairly ordinary; her eye fell on one book, slightly ajar from the rest of its companions neatly lined up with dusty heads. She pulled it out, opened it, and was surprised to see another, smaller, book fall from its covers.

 

It was a simple thing, no ornate gilded stamping adorned its black covers; it made of a leather that was unusually soft and fine; nor was it titled on the spine. She opened it and began to page through; her heart leapt as she saw the symbol of a fist above flower on a page – she had found a book of the secret society of the Jeon-won Chon! Excited she riffled the pages, then stopped randomly as a title page flashed by. She read the title, then whitened and trembled as she read the following paragraph: The Whole Man Torture: - _This is a daunting task and should only be carried out by the assassins with the greatest expertise, the most subtle hand with the jangdo and the most creative minds; it requires 2 days of preparation, as each organ will be removed from the living body one at a time and carefully placed back into the cavity and then the body with its precious cargo will be placed in a silk sack and beaten gently with a cane…_

Disgusted, she decided to put it down; as she went to close the book, her fingers felt a discrepancy in the tight stack of the pages; it felt like heavier paper, or a bookmark. Curious, she opened the book on that spot, and a note in a bold hand had been inserted: _I choose this dish for the feast of the new moon festival as mine own; forget not to garnish with a lock of hair to delight mine eye as I feast on mine enemy's pride and joy._ Sickened, she read the title of the torture: Braised Heart of Man. The walls began to close in, and Tarja knew she had to get outside before she fainted. Firmly, she pushed the empty outer book shell back into place and quickly walked out, thrusting the small black evilness deep into her Obi, where it burned against her skin every time she moved.

To clear her head in the cold air, she walked through the garden with freshly turned earth; the smell was off, a sweet cloying odor that echoed familiar in her mind, but could not place. The smell grew stronger as her feet kicked through a small drift of greasy looking ashes. She bent to roll a bit of ash in her fingers, wondering what wood was so oily that it left this residue, then brought it to her nose to sniff. With a gasp, she took in a cloying sweet putrid stench that coated the back of her throat, making her gag; and more importantly, it made her want to run. And run she did, back to the inn, where she promptly threw up in the middle of the day. A courtesan took pity on her; she had seen the lovely creature in black and white at the O-Bon celebration and knew her by sight; she took Tarja in her room, in the warmth and made her rest until she was better.

Bringing tea, the girl looked her over and asked in a sharper tone if she was with child; Bewildered, Tarja shook her head and stated the coupling was only for O-Bon, then asked if she'd seen Tidus or Yuna here today –she had seen the carriage nearby earlier. She wanted to lay the matter to rest and move on with her life. The courtesan's eyes grew big; she crossed her stars as she cleverly deduced Tidus had really breached his consort contract and made love to this pretty bird, under the nose of the Lady Yuna. Seeing her role as the benevolent rescuer in the love-drama, and feeling a healthy bribe coming her way, she took more care with the pretty girl under her wing: She advised Tarja to have the maester represent her, as that no good consort needed a kick in the- well- never mind you, it was disgraceful for a royal bastard to play with women's hearts and leave them for nasty little bits like Yuna. Then raising her voice in the strident tone she reserved for drunks and porters, she called for a tuktuk to carry her back to Maester Seymour's compound.

The courtesan did receive her bribe, and volunteered her service to the maester, as she had no liking for the society and especially Lady Yuna. She was invited to pay the pretty girl a visit in two weeks and low–voiced instructions followed.

After the courtesan left, well pleased with the opportunity to prink Yuna's nose, Tarja was brought forward to the maester, who gently inquired about her health; reassured she was not with child, as the courtesan hinted, Seymour listened carefully to her narration of events with Tidus; she spoke honestly and simply, kept the storyline factual, thankfully lacking the dramatics so common with Spirean ladies; however he did see her grief and pain lay deeper than usual woman's sorrow over a love affair; all the more sadder because they had never consummated the feelings for one another. Then he understood it was a turn of events he had not ranked highly enough in his machinations. However, he knew that the attraction between the two was deeper than either were willing to admit; he knew it would be a matter of time before Tidus would come to reason and realize what Tarja had said was true: all he had to do was take charge of his own life, seize it; he was not without friends who cared and had influence. However, he was surprised when she admitted to Seymour she had offered to become Tidus' weapon and he turned her down. _He's as stubbornly prideful as his father_ , Seymour sighed to himself.

Tarja went on, giving a gratifyingly detailed, succinct report of all she had noted, bringing forward her own theory of what was happening. She confided to Seymour about Tidus' behavior the last night of O-Bon, the triggered response of violence; then the last day she saw him, she recalled his outburst, which gave her the key to the whole mess; she did not know about the role of women on Spirea, everyone assumed Earth was just like Spirea; that fact caused a cascade- all the pieces fell into place after that incident: Yuna was a mere pawn; an evil one, who slyly kept Tidus trapped in a life that was eating away at his soul a little at a time, until he turned to drugs, alcohol, or the society's influence. He had obviously been set up and brainwashed to harm someone, which would prompt his execution by the kingdom's justice. It was a way to set up a scene for a kill without actually laying a hand on someone. She referred to her home and compared the society to gangs, or a strange word: mafia.

She quietly explained to Seymour she felt certain the society that Yuna belonged to was not under Yuna, or even local control, but by from someone at a distance. She pointed out that any influence that kept Tidus trapped was ultimately controlled by the empress somehow; that she suspected that the empress was behind the society, and planned to not to just crush the son of her enemy, a courtesan who had caught the emperor's eye, but eat his heart out - literally. The ashes in the garden were from burnt human remains, not animal, not plant. She recognized the smell from her training back on Earth. The residue on her shoes was proof. Then she silently took the little black rectangle of evilness from her Obi and silently slid it across the table to Seymour.

Emboldened at the maester's grim nod, she went on to press her theory that the society was women, not men. She asked Seymour for advice, and simply stated that she would do anything to see that Tidus would be free, even if it meant never being his. She humbly ended with: "No man deserves to die like that and have his remains desecrated like he was just an animal. After all, maester, I would not hesitate to offer help for the good of another, especially this life. He stopped me from killing myself the first day I was here, he was a friend, and I respect that bond, even if he does not. He deserves to live free. What is your advice?" _I love him, oh God I love him; I'd gladly give my life if it means he lives. Please tell me there is a way._

With a sinking certainty, Seymour knew her theory was right. He rapidly formulated plans and weighed outcomes until the perfect balance was struck. He was happy he had judged the little eagle rightly; she was strong where Tidus was not, and had scaled Tidus' self-blindness in a single leap, where others had failed. The seed was planted, now all one had to do was get it to sprout – and how he would enjoy making Tidus' life a hothouse this winter! "I eagerly look forward to finally support my liege in his wishes and I welcome your support, Mistress Tarja!"

"However, this will require bold actions and a role which you may want to think over carefully before accepting. I have no doubts you can ably defend anyone you choose, but can you consider deeper intrigues? Ones that would require the appearance of being something other than what you truly are? "

"Lord Seymour…I think I can. Shall we discuss it over tea?"

Over the next month, the town of Bevelle had been set upon its ear with events on the Maester's estate. First, Seymour publicly appointed Tarja as his personal weapon, awarding her position and rank. He very publicly took Tarja with him everywhere, and amongst his many letters and reports were requests to ensure her race was recognized as compatible with Spirea. He had an immense amount of fun taking her to public events and sweetly ignoring or belittling the responses of the shocked aristocrats of Bevelle. Some older Bevellean aristocrats agreed she would be a good match, remembering her fight in the dojo and the gossip in the guard training academy that she was proving to be an exceptional talent, and admitted that her potential now just being realized.

They whispered she was a good replacement for Seymour's mother, a notable assassin in her day; some speculated she was Seymour's lover and others gossiped about her shocking habit of wearing men's outfits; it was even feared she was a queen or at least a person of rank on Earth and was to be feared, as this new planet Earth was a hotbed of power and violence, soon to spill over to Spirea. Conflicting reports arose from sightings of the little eagle at O-Bon being trained as a courtesan, to Seymour secretly negotiating treaties with the empress of Earth; they all hummed and gossiped over a dozen more rumors sipping their cups of tea in their impeccable tea rooms, but there was one thing they all agreed upon, and feared: that the house of Seymour could come to even greater heights of power, if it had a good woman to back Seymour's relationship to the emperor.

Seymour's sense of drama was keen, and many times Tidus sat in the back of the room with Yuna, having his face rubbed in Tarja's rising popularity; Seymour ensured she was visible to the Jeong-won Chon society with a silent message: _See, you fools! You grabbed the lesser prize of a royal bastard, when you could have had THIS!_ It had the desired effect: It drew the attention off Tidus; Yuna became anxious, running to the society, then fretfully making demands of Tidus which further drove a wedge between them. One day he found himself replying back to her publicly: "If you don't like it, then leave. Tear up my contract, for all I care." Yuna was shocked into silence, then slammed the shoji doors in his face. He was stunned for a moment, then it slowly dawned on him his throat wasn't slit ear to ear. He slept in one of the guest rooms that night, a slow smile spreading across his face as he fell asleep.

All in all, Seymour and Tarja did warm to each other very well, and made a good team. He felt young again with her; she in turn, felt she could trust him with anything. They never shared a bed, as Seymour knew Tarja's heart would never accept anyone but Tidus, but it didn't stop him from being so bold as to share a bath with her as his friend and conspirator; it fueled the gossip that they were more than just maester and personal weapon; his bath house quite took her breath away, and they enjoyed themselves with a laugh at the secret they kept, like slightly naughty children. In truth, Seymour confided in her that he missed his mother greatly, and that she reminded him of her; he romantically said with a twinkle in the cool blue eyes, if he could find a woman like his mother, but not one bent on killing him later, he'd be perfectly happy with his life.

Then quite seriously and kindly, he told her: "You know, Tidus has brought himself to like you; his line is stubborn, prideful, intelligent and very highly strung. Do not doubt there will be a time to love for the two of you. He's just being as pig-headed as his father was over Titania. It's too funny. "

He went on that evening to relate the tale of how His liege lord, only a shogun at the time, had taken a trip to Zanarkand and fell insanely in love with the wife of an ambassador, whom was ailing and trying to complete his negotiations honorably with the kingdom before he retired from active service. Titania, Tidus' mother, had refused him outright at first and refused his offer, citing she was honored by his offer, but loved her honor more. Foolishly, he had tried to insist, thinking all he needed was to be a man, and ended up with an arrow in his arm and pinned to a wall! He told Seymour right then and there he knew it was her or no other. In a total about face, he went straight to the ambassador, praised his wife to the bright blue sky of Djevon, honestly told him of his foolishness, and asked, what do you want from me? The ambassador reputedly said: " As long as you're not bending her over my desk while you are signing the treaty, I don't need a damned thing."

In truth, the ambassador thought better of the young man for coming forward honestly; he knew the number of his days and looked to find his cherished wife security, as the Zanarkand court was rife with corruption in his day. In a bold move for a meek man, he negotiated his wife's safety with an exemption to the travel treaties between the two powers, thus enabling him to ensure his lovely Titania would be able to leave Zanarkand when court became too dangerous.

Being desert-bred, Titania was like a wild desert horse and did not come to the young shogun's hand easily, if at all. She and the shogun went nose to nose daily; she was so headstrong she even led him on two chases through the Eid-alal desert on the southern border, until he caught her on the second escape at the famous oasis of Eid. No one knew actually what happened, but for three days he disappeared into the shifting red sands, then came back with her tied to her saddle. Sometime within that space, they realized they looked forward more to the fights than the peace, and she rarely left his side afterwards, bearing him a son after 5 years of being a personal shield to complement his personal weapon, Lady Seymour. The official wife, empress Yu-Shinta was furious, and nearly demanded divorce, then attempted coup of the throne, defeated by a fatal flaw: the court loved their liege more than their lady. However, the son of heaven's victory came at the cost of losing not only a small platoon of guardsmen, but 2 aristocrats loyal to him and his own personal weapon and shield.

Seymour concluded: "The minute I heard about the rondori in the courtyard, I knew history was going to repeat itself!"

Two days later, Seymour caught Tidus' figure at the Bevelle Temple, kneeling in front of the great statue of Djevon, a lovely work in bronze with rare blue sapphires for eyes. Unbelievably, Tidus, the haughty royal consort, was praying, something he had not done in years; Seymour was touched at the young man's efforts to walk a straighter path and knew the fight was not lost. He sat patiently as Tidus carefully chanted his sutras.

Meditating on his now-miserable life in the in the depths of winter season, Tidus glimpsed himself in the shining metal of Djevon's statue, distorted, but still the face he recognized, if it were not for his eyes, full of shadows.

_Which of us did you love, sweet Tarja? Myself? Or this reflection? I know the difference-did you? Djevon, Djevon, oh why did you leave me? I don't care if you hate me, or have forgotten about me. I love you. I'll always love you. You answered my prayer. I will praise you until I die or you answer. But I'm trapped, Djevon. Get me out. Or send me a father to guide me if you're not interested in the job – I know mine isn't. Help me._

Seymour carefully gripped his shoulder and seeing the disconsolate look on Tidus' face, welcomed him like a father who had gone looking for his child all up and down the streets in Bevelle, fearful he was lost or worse, but overjoyed to find him whole and safe. "Come back, Tidus, Come back to my home! We have missed your quick wit and sunny smile. If anything, it will serve to at least stay clear of the inns and pavilions of flowers so abundant here – Why not help fill my seats at my poetry class? You may meet others in your class who are the same bent of mind and it will help you in your efforts to obey Djevon." Cleverly, he said nothing of Tarja yet. He hoped Tidus would open up to him and he could help heal the festering sore in the young man's psyche.

That winter, Tidus was instructed in poetry by Seymour; his little class met in the informal sitting room, where a glimpse of the snow covered gardens could be seen through the sliding shoji screens for inspiration, but it was merely a backdrop to the thoughts in Tidus' mind. The words of his rejection of Tarja's offer still hung in the air and slowly, he came to the realization he was not the man he had wanted to be; somehow, he let himself go far off the course. He felt stifled by Yuna and her peers; the poetry meetings served to get away from her and sort out his thoughts; somehow, it all mixed together in his mind and his way of working through the issues in his subconscious came out in the haikus and verses, clumsily at first, but later, in smooth cadences.

He began to feel more centered and aware than he had in a long time. Any drugs Yuna had fed him had worked their way out of his system long ago, so his old clarity of thought returned; he went on long hunts as well, with his beloved Sora Hanta, a black dot on blankets of white snow, delicately punctuated with a spill of red blood from her kills. He kept a book and pen on him and wrote verse on the hunting flights of Sora in the fields and mountains. Once, with an ache he could not name, he tried to write about the beauty of Sora gliding down a cliff side through astanga trees, but his mind kept flashing back to Tarja's wild eyes and the first time he had coaxed her down from the heights; in flash of regret he thought: _I have set her on this path; I should have seen that Djevon had blessed me that day, but I was blinded by arrogance._

One day, as he was watching the snow fall from the maester's sitting room, the view beautifully framed by shoji screens, he was very taken with the way the snow fell, blowing this way and that, hitting the astanga trees and their deep green brushy foliage; with a moody sense of sorrow and tenderness, he remembered the golden days of summer and fall; he relived the past mistakes he had made; then with the courage of a real man, he took firmly accountability for his actions and laid his past wrong doings to rest, finally stating he would accept the unacceptable, endure the unendurable. He would never do such things again. He would give himself the respect he so badly wanted; he realized that if he respected himself first, others would respect him.

The swirl of memories and images mixed in his mind like the snow he was watching , and soon, he had scratched out a set of verses that somehow captured it all:

 

The maester read his efforts along with everyone else's in his beautifully modulated voice, and somehow, the starved soul of Tidus began to feel more accepting of his life; now, instead of falling into the trap of berating himself and drinking to numb his conscience, he simply dropped the poor habit and worked towards a better way.

One day, he gathered his courage and spoke with the Maester after class; they walked through the soft snowfall in the southern garden; stumbling, hesitant, he admitted he had was not happy with his life, he wanted to change. Of course, Seymour had seen the young man's sincere efforts to grow into a better man in the past two seasons, and knew the verses were a reflection of his inner landscape. He decided it was time to exert his influence, but it must be done subtly, so Tidus would see the danger he was heading towards himself, instead of having it crammed down his throat. Tidus stayed afterwards again the next week with the excuse of a small formal gift of thanks; soon, they made it their habit to walk in the garden and talk after class.

Seymour also did not fail to note the way Tidus' eyes sought out the figure of his personal weapon, whether she was striding ahead of them in proper guard mode, swinging her katana in a kata, etching a complex pattern in the snow to pass the time while they conversed, or standing still, back turned, to give them privacy, silhouetted against the snowy gardens. Once, to tease the young man into an admission of romantic feelings for his delightfully sharp weapon, he had her dressed in a formal men's hakama, all white, as dictated by the current wedding fashion; against the early spring snow, she was a delightful picture, as white becomes all complexions and makes even the plainest girl a beauty. The sight of Tidus finding every excuse to move and keep the beauty in his viewpoint, even after Seymour deliberately stepped in between Tidus and the object of his visual addiction, gave the maester the evidence he needed. He almost giggled at Tidus' love-struck state of mind, hidden from the casual observer but displayed so clearly to his maester's trained eyes; but even better, Seymour also realized Yuna's influence had waned enough for him to step in and tell Tidus of the machinations of the society of the secret Jeong-wan Chon she belonged to. But first, he decided to have just a little more fun. He always wanted to try being a matchmaker.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

When dignitaries or aristocrats visited Maester Seymour's estate that winter and spring, most came with their own guards and personal weapons, all invisibly bristling with caution and armed to the teeth with ancient techniques and intrigues. Seymour's mental assault began when they were ushered into his meeting rooms, which were all clean of any decoration aside from the statue of Djevon and a scroll with a beautiful calligraphy of a verse from his great book of teachings. It shocked them to see him sitting there alone, with no weaponry and no guards; it was a great tool in mentally disarming them. Seymour gleefully predicted their train of thought: if he was that confident of himself to sit thus, then perhaps his power was far greater than they knew, since no man sits in a room with an enemy without a weapon, not even the emperor!

The second assault was that in the weapon herself – she looked inoffensive, pretty, and delicate at first. Assaults were handled in an efficient, deadly manner that was breathtaking in its subtle simplicity. She would even bow respectfully afterwards and thank them for the opportunity! But, oh, how she subdued anyone that crossed Maester Seymour's path with ill intent!

It was another of the maester's secret delights to keep Tarja hidden from sight until he called for her; then she would obediently run to the edge of tatami, kneel, and glide across the mat on her knees, turn with swirl of formal robes and settle at his feet, graceful as a swan gliding across the lake in front of his home. The long sword, the katana, was always visible behind her left shoulder, as a reminder she was his personal weapon; the jangdo was allowed to peep out from her obi, delicately emphasizing her slim waist.

He took an even greater delight when Tidus and Yuna were called to visit; he usually ensured she was dressed with the subtle sumptuousness of the high court hakama for warriors, the deep tones and sturdier fabrics usually favored by men somehow playing up her feminity, yet leaving her free to run, jump, or do any of the incredible defensive moves she had trained in on Earth, even on her knees if need be. But today was different; Seymour knew the pair were no threat and decided Tarja would wear a full high court kimono. It had belonged to his mother; the treasured object of memory been laid in storage between astanga wood boards, the clean resin scent recalling the heights of mount Gazgaret where it grew, where the air was clear as ringing bells and eagles nested.

It was a glorious creation, and was so exquisitely designed it was more in the nature of a piece of art vs. a garment meant for mere mortals. The kimono was in pattern of the traditional black uchikake style, with long court sleeves and a train to drape the wearer with sculpted folds and a white under-kimono with a gold Obi waist wrap, but its resemblance to the traditional high court dress ended there. The robes were cut from highest quality silk, just heavy enough to flow, yet light enough to prevent any impediment to the wearer's movement. Seymour's mother had been famed for her dancing just as much as her speed in attack, so the robe was designed to cling and swirl, enhancing her least movement. Gold embroidery graced the robe in an unusual theme; the top was almost bare of decoration, with a striking pair of eagles flying in tandem on the back right shoulder, positioned just at the very spot where a royal blood would have been tattooed at birth with their house sigil. More gold embroidery subtly began to enhance the hips and lower half, with a design of stylized mountains adorned with astanga trees peeping out from clouds, the precious gold threads gradually becoming more ornately intertwined as they brought the savage heights and clashing steep glens to life against the black, until they met at the hem in a sold mass of gold threads. In contrast, the obi was simple, deceptively so; it was a rare fabric, gold thread woven with golden umber silk, which imparted a delicate understated sheen against the black of the outer robe; when viewed with other high court kimonos and obi, the kimono appeared as simple as a nun's garb across the room, until you came closer, then the subtle richness of the brocaded patterns could be glimpsed.

The effect was stunning when the dressers were finished with her; her hair was brushed until glossy as the silk it lay against and tied low, exactly one hands breadth from her neckline; her face was delicately enhanced with cosmetics until she appeared as a matchless eagle, black feathered in her court kimono with a sparkling lavender blue eye and softest rose lips juxtaposed against the sharp silhouettes of the katana and jangdo.

 

Secretly Seymour swelled with pride as she ever so delicately ran to the edge of the tatami mat , the gown swirling and settling into folds; it momentarily mesmerized his guests, watching her kneel and floor-walk across the mat; the gown was a superb foil for her body, athletic as his mother's, and almost as deadly as his delicate forebear, whom had also been an imperial weapon of high degree in her own day. And there she sat during the entire visit, ever so gracefully alert, bowing with the correct amount of deference, yet throwing Seymour speaking glances with her enchanting eyes as interesting points in the conversation came up. If Tidus and Yuna were not aware of the high esteem he held his mountain-jade eyed personal weapon, they left knowing it intimately.

Tidus remembered Seymour's mother, from his first visit at high court, watching with utter fascination and adoration at the lovely woman dipping and swirling in this very dress. It brought back a stab of youthful enthusiasm to his soul that he hadn't felt for so long; he found himself suddenly admiring her, a wellspring of jealousy beginning in a corner of his heart, which told him, and not for the first time, that he was fool for letting such a gem slip through his hands. He also admired the adroit way the Maester had displayed his prize, envious that such a beautiful object could also be so useful -dangerously so, but needed in the high court intrigues of Bevelle. By the God, she was refined enough for the emperor's personal guard himself! _Now my father will get what he wants…_

_I have become jaded_ , he sighed to himself. _She makes me long for simpler days…._ days where he was untainted with court politics and the power of position; when he believed in love and goodness would overcome any obstacle. _Now I have built the obstacle between us; I have no one else to blame but myself for my unhappiness!_ He thought as he ruefully regarded the wide, deep abyss he'd dug between them over the past 2 seasons. _She is clearly the victor; I will humble myself to losing this game of love and pray I die quickly, so I will not have to endure a lifetime of eating my soul away watching her be tamed to my father's hand, or someone else's._

The maester's gentle voice chimed in on his thoughts and he forced himself to listen, smile and play the game of polite interested conversation, locking away the silent scream of his youthful heart crying for her, sitting less than 3 feet away from him; the very edge of her long sleeve lay across the hem of his hakama, and foolishly, lovesick, he hung his heart's wish on it, imagining it was a subtle courtship signal; that it was as close she dared to touch him after all this time, after he had so shamefully, searingly, rejected her so long ago; that she still felt the same in her heart and hoped the tiny intrusion would give him hope. His downcast eyes began to blur and he hung his head further, pretending to look for a hankerchief in his pocket, until a single blacker than black spot bloomed on the silken sleeve; he willed his face to remain as stone and to breathe normally, as he pulled the neatly folded square out and pretended to dab at his eyebrow, swiftly blotting the saline of his unshed tears.

Maester Seymour's voice remodulated into a conciliatory tone, and smoothly changing course, asked to be allowed the pleasure of taking Lady Yuna to the silk warehouse, so she could personally pick the brocades she desired? Then carefully maneuvering Tidus, he charmingly suggested the far garden by the gate, it was cooling, it was becoming warm in the spring afternoons; his personal weapon would escort him there and he would send Yuna along; he must listen for the bell from the main house. It would strike twice when Yuna had left the main door.

Tarja quietly rose, took the tea tray from the serving girl's hands and faintly smiling, bowed at the three Spireans, then swiftly moved to the half open shoji door behind the maester. In a breath, Yuna and Seymour were gone, leaving Tidus and Tarja alone, as if the conversation were between the two them all along.

She did not speak the entire walk over, simply looking about her for anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, she set the tea tray down on a stone bench in a simple pavilion that overlooked the pond and the sweetly scented garden bushes lining the edges. She politely waited until he sat down wherever he chose, then quietly took the guard's position in front of him and to the right.

Once certain they were alone, he greedily drank in the sight of her, hunger plainly written on his face. Tarja was lost in her own thoughts and did not feel the scorch of Tidus' gaze, contemplating the peaceful pond and the view of the gardens. She had learned something of the way of The Many Gates', the Spirean temple discipline of her innermost self, and she was at peace with sitting there, in front of the man who had thrown her on the road she was travelling. She told herself: _It doesn't matter anymore. I forgave myself for allowing myself to be so foolishly gullible in this world of formalized barbarism and plots behind plots. He is still beautiful, he is still Yuna's consort, I am still an alien with a veneer of their civilization on top._

Her eyes casually noted a swallow diving into the soft green water and soaring above their heads into the pavilion. Their tranquility was disturbed when a series of frantic whistles and cheeps began behind them; the swallow found itself trapped in the tiny alcove in the wall and was frantically dashing itself against the door, where a glimpse of the path was seen in through the metal grille set in the center of the door. Tarja and Tidus looked around and instantly both their faces softened at the poor creature's plight. Tarja immediately rose and ran over, hoping to gently persuade the tiny bird to fly out of the alcove to freedom; Tidus also jumped up, and ran the other way, also hoping the 2nd distraction would make the creature take the open path back to the pond; but instead it became even more frantic, wings fluttering as it darted here and there between the two; suddenly Tidus' heart cracked at the sight.

He had seen himself in the bird, fluttering madly to escape its fate, a way of life he had been trapped in; he was filled with a deep fear of Lady Yuna; his position of consort seemed to take on dark overtones in his mind; he wanted to escape, but instead, he was foolishly crashing headlong into a wall until it killed him. Indeed, that is exactly what the bird did; it flew headlong into the door grille, dropped to the ground suddenly, and laid there without a further move. Grieved, he stooped down and tenderly held the creature in his hands, shuddering with suppressed sobs at the dire foreshadow of his fate, lying right there, lifeless in his warm brown hands. _Will anyone even grieve for me when I dash myself to pieces? Does anyone care enough in this world to rescue me? Do I rescue myself? If I do, what is left for me to live for? All I see is an empty life. All roads will be alike to me, if I am alone!_ He simply shut his eyes, blanched and two tracks of silver ran down his cheeks.

He almost did not feel the lightest of touches removing the tiny feathered creature from his hands, he was so distraught; then he shook himself as she spoke his name softly several times; grimly, he opened his eyes and acknowledged her. After all, Yuna was coming soon.

Her mountain jade lavender blue eyes no longer distant cool stones, she quietly said: "Look. Look, Tidus…all is not lost – the bird was stunned for a moment – it is not dead. Please, please don't weep, Tidus….here, look for yourself and see the life." She gently held her hands out, and sure enough, a wing fluttered and its gleaming jet eye was now open and lively. She gently continued: "Tidus..Tidus-san, I think the wing is broken; I know you have healed your hawks and eagles; perhaps this little one can also be healed? …Will you do this? Please? For…for the creature? "

He nodded, and held his hands out for the swallow. Something began to bloom in his heart in a space he had thought of as dead, barren and blasted as winter these past months. The tiny swallow looked up at him with a curious gleam in its eyes, but did not struggle to fly away. He almost smiled, the arrogant patrician face softening into more boyish lines; he looked across at Tarja, and it was like he was suddenly seeing her again for the first time, with his heart so much older and wiser, but still HIS heart, despite its many wounds and scars. He realized in that moment he loved her, despite everything. And that he was terrified of Yuna.

Tarja was shocked, it was like she was also suddenly seeing Tidus for the first time; the face he presented was a radical departure from the haughty aristocrat she knew in the past; it was the face she had dreamed of, tender, open, and noble. Her heart could not help itself, and it whispered to Tidus through Tarja's's rose petal mouth: "Indeed, my love, there is nothing that is lost that cannot be found again, If you have the will to look for it..."

The bell rang twice in the distance, announcing Lady Yuna's departure. Tarja stepped forward, and gently extracted the handkerchief from his pocket, then gently wiped his face clear of tears with it. He could tell the exact moment the casual touch turned into a caress; he allowed himself a few seconds of this secret ecstasy, then gently stopped her hand and extracted the cloth before his self-control was completely gone and he would be caught making violent love to the personal weapon of Maester Seymour in Seymour's garden. His hand gently rose again, and softly traced an arc of a caress on her lovely face, just hovering above the skin, close as can be without actually touching; leaving just his eyes touching her everywhere.

He knew just the right way to contact her again, as he held the messenger in his hands. He quietly bowed and resumed his former seat on the stone bench, awaiting his Lady's arrival and began to minister to the broken wing. A few minutes later he spoke in a formal tone: "And now, mistress Tarja, a single strand of your hair, please? – even a silk thread would weigh this small fellow down. Now. There. He will mend his wing again and fly to the heavens by the moon festival. Ah, Lady Yuna arrives. Yuna? See, a swallow flew into the wall, most unusual for this time of year, yes?..." And so, he departed from the garden, gently talking about the sparrow, drawing off the Lady Yuna, pretending to ignore Tarja as if she were nothing more than another sharp weapon set to guard him.

Seymour finally sent Tidus the secret message he promised during O-Bon, and spoke to him with the authority of maester about the events that were planned, and his plans to oppose them; however, he kept silent about the other plans he had been instructed with for the sake of his oldest friend. After sitting him down in his private temple, far away from large ears, he spoke carefully to the young lord consort.

The Jeon-wan Chon was a most secret society; no one really knew what their purpose was, unlike the other Chon societies, who simply wanted control of brothels, alcohol, weapons and drugs; therefore, the Jeon-wan Chon was more feared. The society members were not only going to sacrifice Tidus to the kingdom's justice after using him, they were going to engage in an abomination; a ritual torture and a feast was to be prepared of his heart flesh and served to the society. They chose him for specific reasons, as an example that was close to the throne, and fed him every pleasure, warped his mind with herbs, brainwashed him with the secret mental techniques of the society to be a killing machine for their machinations and simply had humiliated and abused him just because they could.

They thought of themselves as connoisseurs of the exotic; over the years they had claimed to have amassed the power of the poor souls they'd eaten; the ancient belief that eating the flesh of one's enemy gave them their enemy's strength was a myth they had bought into, instilled by a devious and clever mind greater than their own shallow, grasping, greedy thoughts. The worst part was that it was suspected that the Jeon-wan Chon was not made of men, but of women, the silent powers behind the society and life as they knew it.

It took a heart far more subtle and cunning to plan at this level and keep to the shadows. He then delicately brought up that Lady Yuna was not clever enough to mastermind such a thing and bade him think of any enemy he had that possessed such cunning. He let Tidus see for himself who was really behind the evils done to him. Seymour never outright admitted he knew it was the empress herself behind the Jeon-wan Chon; he had recognized the strong hand on the note, from decades ago when the empress still wrote her own letters. However, Tidus immediately understood the inference.

Tidus knew with a sickening feeling that Seymour was right, dead right. It made sense, they had all treated him so well, because they knew what was going to happen. He was no better than a beast being fattened for slaughter. No matter that his blood has half royal; the emperor had plenty of bastards to go around. With malign distaste, he now saw Lady Yuna as the society's welcome mat, his desire for her running out of his veins like sand in the antique Al Bhed time keeper that sat on Seymour's low writing table. But at the same time, a corner of his heart was singing; he could leave this life without any further excuse to stay. His eyes frosted over into blue ice, and he firmly turned to the Maester, saying: "Secret Jeon-wan Chon be damned, let them eat my sword and like it, Maester."

"Ah, so the young eagle wishes to fly into the face of his enemy after all? I would advise to fly to the capital and take sanctuary in the temple, until the imperial hand of justice can execute its plans. There has been action planned for some time. All it needed was an official reason to proceed. You agree? Ah, good. And there is another in the eye of the Jeon-wan Chon who needs to fly from Bevelle; my thought is all birds travel in flocks. Before you refuse, hear further. I have gone to considerable trouble on your behalf, and I have machinations of mine own to complete to make the whole work as planned. There is a high price for my information, guardian Tidus-san; are you willing to pay any price to escape this moon festival alive?”

Seeing Tidus nod he simply said: “Good."

" My price is twofold: One, my favorite weapon must leave with you; she will be seized by the Society if I do not remove her from Bevelle, Tidus-san. I elect to confound their machinations; they do not align with the emperor's vision of the kingdom."

Shocked, Tidus wonders: _Is he the emperor's personal agent? How could he have been under our noses for so long? Holy Djevon, have I been a fool!_

Tidus gracefully catches himself and replies in kind: "Eagles travel in pairs; I will be glad of a companion, maester. She is a weapon so sharp, even Djevon would be cut should the two meet!"

"Second, I want you to formally relinquish your legal status of consort to the Lady Yuna, passing your entire holdings to my care as steward of your estate."

Tidus was glad to be extricated from Yuna's grasp, but startled at losing his estate to the maester; he hadn't thought about being not wealthy, and wondered how long he'd last without money and his holdings. Seeing the dismay on Tidus' face the maester quietly added: " Tidus-san, there is good reason for this; your estate will be kept in stasis legale by the emperor's treasury until you, or any legal entity representing you named beforehand can claim it. That way, Bevelle's high court cannot seize it; we suspect there is corruption and if you leave Yuna, her claim for damages will be upheld, no matter how exaggerated the claim is. I have no interest in your wealth, as I have quite enough, you see. It is the Lady Yuna whom holds our interest; I will take great pleasure in 'using' your newly added wealth as a tool to obtain her interest. It will also be easier for me to convert holdings to cash for your travel without questions if the estate is in my hands. All it requires is your trust, and my standard legal fee for my services."

Tidus agreed, asking with a forced calmness he did not feel in the least: "Does mistress Tarja know she will travel with me?"

The Maester allowed himself a charming smile, pouring tea into his cup, and suddenly Tidus gets he did not, and with good reason.

Tidus grins in return, and suddenly emotionally moved to gratitude, he starts to say: "Maester, how do I…how can I ever-" The maester cut him off with a shake of his black-purple hair and softly laughed: " You tell her! Maybe she'll take your head instead of mine! But seriously, Tidus-san, if you wish to be grateful in real terms, I ask you to support the emperor's wishes – you will know when to act; the moment will present itself clearly."

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_You called me by my name in this world, and I ignored you, my ears were deaf_

_You called me again by my true name and I heard you, loud as a thundering heart_

_I am yours, calling Djevon's name in praise every sunset_

Nakita, the bathhouse girl, whistled and giggled at the ever so romantic lines written on the tiny roll of parchment on the sparrow's leg, dyed to match, and carefully rerolled it back onto the tiny creature's limb. "I win! She crowed at Ainjin, who groaned in mock frustration and handed over his bet. She did a small dance of delight and kissed Ainjin, then ran to bully Tarja into wearing a kimono for dinner and ensure her hair was dressed, with flowers this time. Ainjin carefully carried the cage back to the dojo courtyard, and took an entire 5 minutes to place the cage with the love message at just the right place where they could all see if Tarja would dance like Nakita or not when she read the message. He had again bet his month's pay, double or nothing this time.

The guard carefully held its breath, as she carefully tucked the tiny scrap of paper into her Obi, and took two steps away from the delicate bamboo cage on the table. She began to giggle and suddenly joyfully spun in a few dancing steps, snatched an apple from a bowl on the table, threw it up and sliced it with a quick draw of her katana. “Yes!” She cried happily, then embarrassed, put a hand over her mouth and looked around wide-eyed to see if anyone had heard her. Everyone ducked below the wall of the balcony and held their breaths; Ainjin had a trainee in a head lock, his hand over the boy's nose and face to prevent the fit of nervous boyish giggles at his most feared teacher dancing like a love struck virgin. Ainjin almost felt like a dance himself, with an extra month's pay in the pocket. _I should do that apple toss when we train!_ He thought, thinking of how he'd impress Nakita if he learned that trick.

Sunset found Tidus kneeling in front of Djevon, calming himself with sutras; he kept telling himself not to expect anything today, maybe not even for weeks, but he hoped she would come. _It is never wrong to hope…_ He told himself. A lady in a kimono was walking up the path and he sighed in disappointment. He felt her kneel behind him and smelled an incense stick being lit. He politely rose to go and a "Tidus-san?" stopped him; delighted, he turned and recognized Tarja, clad in a kimono behind him. He cocked his head in surprise at the lovely gown and flowers in hair – it wasn't like her!

She looked a bit embarrassed and sighed: "Nakita thought it'd make a good disguise." She rose from her pillow and imitated him, arms crossed, leaning against a stone pillar supporting the blue glazed tile roof.

"She was right. Your display as a lady is a stunning camouflage. Who would think a lord consort would fall flat on his face for a wild trainee, running around like a man in hakama? Not I."

"What eagle would send a sparrow as a messenger? Not you."

 

Both fell silent for a moment, then uncomfortably tried not to be caught stealing glances at the other; Tarja gave it up and decided she'd have to lead – she knew that after the years of subtly enforced submission to the pets of the empress, Tidus would never be the man he was struggling to be if he had to beg her pardon. It was the acting role of a lifetime, she knew he had behaved badly at O-Bon, but he was only three steps away, and it seemed like such a small price to pay for his confidence.

She suddenly looked up, genuine tears sparkling in her eyes, ran over to him and cast herself on his chest, burying her head into the warm silk of his Gi and began to cry. 'I never thought I'd ever see you again, my brave eagle! Oh, please, please, forgive me! It was pride that held me back, after you left at O-Bon! Please tell me you forgive me, Tidus!"

His heart swelled, and for the first time in years, his confidence soared and broke free of the cage the empress had built around it and he found himself manfully clasping Tarja close, tenderly reaching a hand up to stroke the satiny hair, then bravely, possessively, running it through the strands, long fingers wrapping around the skull, only to firmly pull it closer to him. He laid claim to her, fiercely daring anyone within eyesight, no, the world, to even try to wrest his little eagle from him; in turn, her hands slipped from his waist, only to wrap around him all the more closely. He heard her murmur into his shoulder; he wanted to hear her say again he was her eagle, her love, all the tender things he longed to hear; and there were things to tenderly whisper in her ear, so he slipped two fingers below her chin and lifted it clear. Eyes met and clung, both speaking in the silent language of wild things: _I see you, I truly see you and my heart bounds with joy at the very sight of you, my blood sings….love me, love me now, I would fight through oceans of time for you…_

As his soul quieted, now filled with a clean contentment at being fed with the right diet of a good woman's affection, he finally asked into her hair: "What was it you said, _Washiita_? I have been so foolish myself these past two seasons…if anything, forgive me?” Then, foolishly romantic: "Look at me. I want to hear you say that, again."

She complied, and soon the tension eased; they filled the next half hour with their versions of events in the last months, interspersed with tender marks of affection; a strand of hair idly stroked, a handclasp that gently tightened helped them both over the rough emotional patches. Finally, Tidus brought up the maester's plan for escape from Bevelle:

"Know why you're here? Aside from hearing my lovesick apologies for being the ass end of a pit viper at O-Bon? Well, here's something else you need to hear. I've done it. I am seizing my life in my hands and taking it, be damned to it all – Yuna, the Jeon-wan Chon, the empress, all of it. Yes, He told me. All of it. Maester has arranged for me to leave Bevelle. Then leave the kingdom if need be. He's helping me, with a few conditions of his own, one namely around you. He has to get you out of Bevelle and into the capital at least, to be protected by the temple. He wants you to go with me. You will go, then? Come with me. All the way."

"All the way? To the end of your journey?"

 

He nods; now dazed again by the intense look of boyish admiration she remembered from a summer day returning to light his eyes, she nods, complicit.

Over the next month, Tidus spent time secreting items for his escape into a pack, gifting people and trusted servants with some things, then quietly creating the legal documents Maester Seymour asked for. He spent time wandering his favorite places in Bevelle, knowing he might never return to see them. He spent more and more time with the guard, practicing until he was dusty and bruised, but rose more skilled as the days went by; he played the part of consort to Yuna admirably, even charmingly hinting at romance, with the gift of a pure white kimono to wear at the moon festival, lavishly decorated with pearls and embroidered with flowers, fans, tassels and a pair of firebirds, all symbols of good luck for weddings.

He even made love to her with enthusiasm, mentally enjoying the thought he would be free of her demands in bed, which currently consisted of insisting on humiliating lewdnesses, with panting orders for one position after another, so the act of love was more like the act of a street acrobat, than an expression of true passion. He pretended to not to notice the efforts to ensure he was brought every pleasure, and acted credibly pleased when Yuna told him they were invited to a private erotic party at an estate in town. He suppressed an internal shudder at knowing that the scene of his undoing would be set on the night of the festival of the full moon. He pretended to be addled with drugs in her presence, even wearing makeup to appear red eyed and sodden with drink; however, his trusted servants ensured his food and drink were clean. Above all, hope shone in his heart; hope that whatever he was travelling to would be a better place; that he and Tarja would somehow come to some understanding between them; that at least he would be free to be the man he wanted to be, not the arrogant, spoiled, haughty, jaded aristocrat he had been.

Yuna was almost regretful Tidus would be gone; he was an exquisitely good lover, and had somewhat seriously thought of the advantage of being wedded to a half royal. She tried to argue the point with the society, saying that it would allow them to infiltrate further in, but they scoffed, saying they had three such half royal bastards in their employ already; besides, they hinted that the next consort-elect would be young Rain, the young warrior who had lately bloomed; Bevelle was agog at his audacity on the battlefield and his warm brown eyes. Indolent, and flattered, she simply shrugged and accepted their story that Tidus was being used to keep the true hope of a united kingdom alive.

Tidus went over the stern instructions given by Maester Seymour earlier: "Drink nothing, eat nothing that is offered that day, say you are under priest's order to fast before the feast; keep a pebble in your mouth. Do not allow the lady to light candles or incense near you; they will likely be drugged. Refuse any congress with the lady, even a kiss can be poison today, young master. If at all possible, leave the house before she does; use a priest's token as an excuse; go to the temple with the hot springs at the old south temple gate; stay in the public eye, travel in a crowd on the way there. I doubt you will be followed, if you set the idea in the lady's mind that you are still the same innocent gosling she was set to guard. Carry no pack or signs of travel about you that day; send it the night before by your manservant; all other needs will be ready for you. At the temple, ask for the ritual of purification before a wedding; when he asks the houses that will be joined, say two eagles."

 

When Tidus arrived at the old temple gate the morning of the Moon Festival, Tarja was waiting by the secret back gate, indistinguishable from any other temple guardian, her straw hat shading her face into obscurity, the temple's soft grey-green travelling hakama and short double wrapped kimono somehow blurring her figure, blending almost seamlessly into the walls in the half light. He was clad in plain dark blue, the usual blanks most men travelled in; in the days of intrigue, it was dangerous to flaunt your house sigil and colors.

Both were girt with short bow and arrow as well as katana and jangdo from the temple armory after tying on travel packs to their saddles. They both were blessed by the priest, then mounted their horses and rode hard once they had quietly walked out of the temple gate into the road away from the city. They pushed the horses as hard as they dared and reached the far bend of the river at sunset, making the last ferry of the day. On the opposite side and a mile down, a small skiff was tied up at the dock of a waterfront shrine. They threw their two packs in, left the horses in the tiny stable by the shrine gate and shoved off in the early evening with only the light of the moon to guide them. Two days float and they would make the imperial capital, where the temple of heaven would shield them until passage across the ocean or the Eid desert could be made. They would take turns at the rudder, to allow them some sleep on the journey. Tarja was exhilarated, despite the danger; the skiff was light and easy to handle, the stars were coming up in the sky and she was her own person again, unbound by this world's rules for a few days. She patiently kept the skiff centered on the main currents for as long as she could, as she doubted that Tidus had any experience sailing anything on the water. There would be time to teach him at dawn, when he could see the river currents as well as feel them. He slept lightly this night, more stressed at leaving all he knew behind than at the rocking of the boat in the current. He sat up to watch the dawn, the waters misting above the water, lending a mysterious air to the river as sunlight gradually crept upon the sky, sending fingers of light to gently dabble in the waters below. When the fingers started to touch the riverbanks with drifts of lotus opening their tight purple veined buds to the sun's warmth, he felt a sense of oneness with his universe and it seemed that everything was calling to him. Quietly overjoyed, he stretched his hands to the sky, dropped them on the wooden bar behind him and tilted his face to the sun, and lotus-like, let himself open to the sun. He turned to Tarja after a good half hour passed and asked a wholly unexpected question: "Just how the hell do you take a piss on one these mosquitos?"

_Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that!_ She thought; she wryly smiled and in a second, they both erupted into laughter as they realized they didn't think of that simple, but necessary function of life in their plans. She pulled the boat over to the left shoreline on a sandbar, and ran out to commune with nature herself. Relieved, she ran back and did a furious, but brief stretch to unknot her shoulders from holding the rudder all night. Tidus noticed, and told her he was steering today; he assured her that he knew how to handle bigger boats, as his summer home was on the great lake north of Bevelle. He re-stowed the packs in the front to weight the skiff correctly, then took off his short gi and under kimono, leaving just pants and travelling boots on. He rolled the shirts, placed them on his lap, and motioned her in, holding out a hand to help balance her as she stepped aboard the rocking craft. He quietly settled her in the bench just before his and gently, but firmly, pulled her backwards until her head hit his chest, then he gently lowered her to the roll of clothes on his lap and simply said: "Sleep." As she settled against the roll, the warm honey scent of his skin underlaid with a faint scent of astanga wood resin soap drifted up, and his strong legs wrapped around her torso, firmly pushing his feet on the wood seat to hold steady, like any good sailor would do to keep his stow-mate from rocking the boat as they slept. She awoke when the sun was past noon, but still high in the sky, and watched the clouds drift by in the sky; Tidus' hand unconsciously stroked her hair, then noticing she was awake, moved his hand to her face, tracing the soft arc of the untouchable caress he did in the Maester's garden. Confused, yet desiring his touch, she slowly rubbed her head against the roll, then slowly sat up. _Not here, not now,_ Tidus thought; _but as soon as we find a proper bed, I will leave you no room to doubt me, little eagle._

She shyly smiled and carefully moved to the center bench, pulling an apple out of the backpack and idly munched it, asking questions about the river as they drifted downstream in the currents. Welcoming the distraction, he answered her questions, slowly opening up until they were telling each other confidences they'd never told anyone else, cracking jokes and filling the two seasons-long abyss between them until sunset; then Tidus opened the box beneath the stern-mate's seat and shook out a circle net; he cast it with a practiced flip of his wrist in the shallows of a river bend, and soon had a catch of silver-sides; after picking a pair of the river fish, he wrapped them in leaves from the large river bamboos growing on the shore and placed them on a hot rock in the fire he had built. In a half turn of the clock, they were eating the first hot meal they'd had in two days.

Staring at the little campfire's warm embers, contented, Tidus began to idly stroke her hair again as she sat at his feet; she leaned into the caress and surprisingly, asked if he'd like to make love on the little beach. She took his silence as rejection; she rose and started to quietly move away, ashamed she had asked, but he caught her to him, and turned her roughly to face him; Tidus exclaimed: "I want to! Trust me. I. Want. To. But I think I deserve a bed, not dirt. I…I have been trained to please, Tarja, since age 13; and never have I been allowed to please myself. Please, please allow me this one thing. I promise you will not regret it, little eagle. I want you. Believe it."

Again shocked at the revelation of the warrior, now baldly admitting he was trained like a courtesan in making love, she just dumbly nodded and thought: _I want you too, Tidus. I've always wanted you. Perhaps it is I who needs the lesson. Maybe it's barbaric to them to be spontaneous. Accept. Listen. Learn._

To show she understood, she lifted a hand and imitated his untouchable caress over his face, vs. leaning in for a kiss. His blue eyes warmed in appreciation of the subtlety of her gesture; he found himself returning the subtle caress on her face. She looked so appealing in the firelight; and with his newfound sense of freedom, he decided to bend just a little, huskily saying: "Those lips were made for passion – kiss me this once for a taste, Tarja…a promise of what is to come…" He gently looked down at her and all she could do was stare mesmerized at his firm lips mouthing the words 'kiss me' silently, a flood of erotic images now crowding her mind, spilling into her blood, carried along every artery into the secret places in her body; she raised on her toes, and with admirable control, placed her lips on his, gently pressing against the warm flesh. Then her world turned upside down. Tidus took command, firmly moving his lips on hers as he turned his head to delve into her warm mouth further with his tongue, expertly adding to the sensual overload with a deep purr in the back of his golden throat. He willed himself to stay absolutely still, so he would not lose further control, just concentrating on the kiss, now a touch savage as he kept a hand on the back of her neck, pressing hard and deep, then pulling away with a gentle nip to her full lower lip.

Suddenly, the night seemed much happier, and somehow, why they were there, on a river in the middle of nowhere, running from a secret society of assassins, made perfect sense.

They eventually kicked the fire out, then climbed back aboard the skiff to keep moving through the night. Tarja took the rudder and Tidus took the stow-mates position. The next morning, they exchanged places; the river deepened and the current picked up; two bluffs came into view and as they passed, Tidus told her the tale of the two giants fighting in the beginning of time, forever frozen in place as guards, having offended the harmony of the gods by their jealous bickering over the river. He also remarked that they should reach the delta and the imperial capital by nightfall. The river started to show signs of civilization soon after, and Tarja soon struggled into an upright position, donning her hat in order to give the appearance of a proper waterman's woman. Tidus donned his under kimono and Gi, much to her disappointment; she had enjoyed the view of his golden brown torso, rippling with muscle in the spring sun.

It was sunset when they found the temple of heaven's pier on the river; it wasn't hard to find, everyone they asked had assured them it would be shining as brightly as day and the temple boys in their grey green garb were out, helping to tie up boats and help the sick, the infirm, or the elderly in and out. There was an older man overseeing the boys and he politely asked them their business with the temple and they again said a wedding ritual purification; they were instructed to tell them the houses of the eagle and the dove this time and bowing, the grey-haired iron fist of a man led the way himself to the temple chambers.

They had made it! They were safely hidden in the imperial capital temple. Tidus found himself pulled away from his companion of two days and fretful, he almost raised his voice at the priest, who smiled benignly and bowed as he waved him into the head priest's private office. The head priest reaffirmed the code words and they conversed for a good hour about the situation Tidus had left behind in Bevelle. The Jeon-wan Chon had little influence in the imperial Capital; however, it didn't stop the emperor and his legal court from ensuring they did not further expand their influence. The abomination of bending a man's mind to be a killing machine was bad enough, but the secret feast of the flesh, prepared with expertise of a chef's skills aroused the imperial anger no small amount.

He was asked about Tarja, how she came to Spirea, what his impressions of her kind were; the high priest was silently amused at the way this young eagle's feathers ruffled at the mere idea she was something other than a superb creature; _Ahhh…lovebirds I am sheltering as well as warriors! Perhaps this is a good thing; we won't have to separate them when the imperial service is offered. What an odd pair they are; I must convince them to visit again and record their story, especially hers, we have never had a record of a human from this Earth yet; we have to investigate where the gate is on the mountain, ensure it is closed…_ the priest thought as he poured tea for Tidus. He then gently informed Tidus he was a guest here for a few days, until he had arranged things and taken his report to the council of the requisite high court and received a ruling, plus funds to pursue actions. He suggested they did not leave the city, nor advertise their presence; he politely insisted that staying on the temple grounds might allow some further secrecy and protection.

After Tidus left for a long needed bath and a real bed, the temple maester turned to the muslin panel to his right and quietly laughed, stating: "Well, what do you think of this love struck eagle's story?" The face remained shadowed, but the robes of an imperial high court personage peeped out as they stirred from the chair and quietly laughed also: "I suspect we will have a wedding in the temple by solstice, by Djevon! The young eagle has shown an extraordinary resourcefulness as number two has written; his story concurs with the reports. He is who he says he is. I will set the next steps in motion. And maester? – Observe her for me- tell me if she is truly trained. The son of heaven is most interested."

_Delicious,_ Tarja thought as she approached the large communal bathtub. It was lined with blue tiles, making it a perfect reflecting pool for the night sky above their heads in the miniature formal garden; lit by lanterns , scented with night blooming lotus and temple incense, it was a welcome indulgence after the two day run down the river. She had scrubbed the dirt of the journey off in the women's communal bath house and had her tight shoulders and hips unknotted by a novice; her clothes had been washed, but were still drying, so she wore a simple temple trainee's practice gi and hakama loaned by the temple's storehouse of donations. She was not anxious as Tidus had been when they were separated; she had anticipated it, as he was a half royal bastard son and she was, well, not royal. She was treated with the rank and status that the maester had officially bestowed on her; her room was simple, but well appointed and the tea was of excellent quality. She was joined by a few other women, also travelers. They all enjoyed the restful garden glimpsed through the rising steam of the ever-so-hot water and the few idle comments faded into a comfortable silence as the hot water undid all the stresses of the day. Later, utterly relaxed, lying on a soft futon, drifting into sleep, Tarja mentally replayed the sensual kiss Tidus and she had shared the evening before more than once, delighted at the fierce avowal that he wanted her.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Tarja woke suddenly and for a moment, was disoriented; it was still night, but the lantern in the courtyard was now dark; she frowned in the darkness, remembering she had filled it to the top with lamp oil. Sighing, she decided to get up and relight it; as she began to roll, she heard a footfall against the wood of the little porch and moments later, the faint snick of the shoji opening to her bedroom. Trying to breathe silently, she felt for her jongdo on her left, and placed her right hand on her katana lying on the pillow next to her. Tensely, she counted the footfalls as they made the way to her bed. She wondered why the intruder hadn't sprung on her, and could make out a darker profile against the slightly diluted dark of the courtyard.

The profile moved oddly, a rumple of fabric hit the floor as a temple robe was untied; the figure sat itself on the bed , then gently turned to her and touched her shoulder to shake her awake; her veins flooding with relief, she recognized the feel of honey gold fingers. He quietly spoke: " I wanted to see you before I went to sleep. They have a room for me in the main guest house, in the royal quarters. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. We have planning to do – but, I hope you'll have time to be on my arm for some time in the gardens and for the dinner." He softly continued: "I want you to see the temple tomorrow, too. You know I pray to Djevon now, don't you?" Now regretful, he said:" "I have a guard waiting on me by the gate, I can't stay here. He'll come get you tomorrow, very early, at dawn. We have to stay out of sight." He pulled on the disguise of a priest's temple robe again and slipped out the door like a ghost fading into night.

Dawn found its way into the temple like a little grey cat on soft feet, surprising a trainee or two with its sudden appearance. But not Tarja or Tidus. Their escorts found them dressed and peacefully contemplating their images of Djevon in cool courtyards, incense sweetly smoking. Outer calm hid an inner eagerness to be near each other and true to courting behavior, each tried to be pleasing to the other. They followed the soft grey green robes of the temple acolytes through cool stone hallways to the courtyard of the main temple and knelt alongside the monks and temple trainees all sitting in quiet meditative silence; a quiet joy was passed from face to face of the monks as the first beams of sunlight threw themselves on the image of Djevon; The head priest began the chant of the praise sutra:

_Praise be to you, oh divine sun of my heart_

_We lift our hearts in praise, we are loved_

_Our praise shall be as incense_

_Our praise shall be as love_

_Praise be to you, O Djevon of the secret heart!_

A reading from the 9th chapter was given, and after a short space of meditation, the great temple bell tolled the 6th hour of the morning; the day had begun. Tidus and Tarja were directed to a hall where food was served to the monks, and received instructions from the maester and his assistant on pending plans; when all was said, they were left to themselves to enjoy the temple grounds and its amenities until the high court had reviewed the case. Of course, the maester lost no time in inviting Tarja to discourse on her planet, and demonstrate her unusual fighting techniques. He had heard of the dojo fight and was quite curious. Later, when he was writing his report, he confided to the recipient that although the little eagle's magnificent talents had enthralled him greatly, he was now in absolute awe of Tidus; he'd never seen a man so fearless in taming her to his hand, and was impressed with his quick thinking. He delicately avoided the personal thought that Tidus' fearlessness went hand in hand with his sheer stubbornness, much like his father's pugnacious attitude when his ire was aroused. It never did to prink a royal's nose. Besides, who wouldn't be a bit feisty, when such prizes of soft rose lips and melting eyes of mountain jade were to be had?

The days at the temple were a halcyon of peace for Tidus; he was starting anew in his life and it strengthened his soul to be there, where respect for what had made him dwelled in abundance. He teased Tarja into a kimono in the evenings, since it pleased him to see her so; they walked the gardens, or walked the rooftop lookouts, with Tidus pointing out the greater buildings of the palace, the markets and the courts that he had been in.

The Spring Moon festival would begin in three days, and the maester of the temple informed Tidus over tea that the high court had pursued justice, given it in Bevelle, and had come to its decision. His father would see him after the rituals at the temple were completed and formally appoint him a position in the imperial guard. He felt the evil of the Cheong Wah had been rooted out and he wanted his son closer to him. Tarja was to be brought forward and presented at court by the maester. A minor appointment as the first ambassador of Earth would be considered, once the court had decided Earth should be legally recognized as a separate species.

Tidus had half hoped he would be sent out of the kingdom, so he could simply play more, but he wasn't about to turn down a position from his father and realized he would be in his element, pursuing a manly career, yet not far from the refinements of life and the intrigues at court his quick mind could play in. He formally thanked the maester for his news and went to find Tarja, so they could finally get away from the confines of the temple walls. He couldn't wait to walk free without having to watch his back; he looked forward to seeing maester Seymour, whom thoughtfully left him funds and letters of marque at the imperial treasury.

As there was no way he could get his personal effects sent in time for the festival, he dragged Tarja to Tailor's Row after the visit to the treasury and had themselves outfitted in an outfit of court-worthy gi and hakama. They finished the day out with a visit to a waterfront restaurant, a common sight in any city. It was more of a hole in the wall than restaurant, but the fish was first class and the staff genuinely welcoming. Many imperial servants stopped here for food after duties, which meant the tiny bar with its 13 tables was open at all hours and usually crowded. It felt good to be sitting there, watching the flow of customers, eating slivers of raw or broiled fish and laughing at the chef's jokes with everyone else, and laughing harder at the young bloods trying to keep up with salty sailors cup for cup.

The morning of the Spring Moon festival brought maester Seymour now resplendent in his purple robes and mountain jade, he welcomed Tidus and Tarja with fatherly blessings and embraces. He asked to meet them tomorrow, after the morning devotion, so they could catch up with other on events and pass on some documents to release the estate from the stasis legale at the treasury. Regretfully, Tidus had to part from his adored companion, as she was not released from her duties as personal weapon to Seymour and went to pay his respects to the imperial family, now about to arrive at the docks in the imperial barges.

That evening, the temple crowded with visitors and dignitaries, as it was one of the bigger festivals of the year, and there would be fireworks later, rows of imposing racks as tall as a man and long as a banquet table set all around the edges of the courtyard. Tarja stood by Seymour, but kept a wary eye on proceedings, looking for patterns of movement or anything out of the ordinary; she wasn't quite convinced the imperial guard and the temple guard had thought of everything. She kept losing Tidus in the crowd around the emperor and it disconcerted her; she was too used to being able to pick his blonde head out from a sea of jet. She idly began to count blondes and noticed there were quite a group near the imperial pavilion; then she felt odd, and whirled around again to count them; puzzled, she wondered why part of her was saying 'this-is-wrong'; she tried to pick out Tidus again and mentally began to place the blonde heads on a map in her head; then alarms went off as she recognized that they were perfectly spaced apart in a semicircle around the pavilion. _But why?_

She looked at each person; they weren’t dressed alike, but each carried a walking staff or cane, and about half of them carried an offering basket of eggs or oranges, symbols of the fertile new moon. Her heart beat began to elevate as she saw the one closest to her move from one table to another, a step closer; now mentally frantic, she looked at the others and saw they'd all crept forward. She tried to get Seymour's attention, but he waved her off, deep in conversation with the temple maester's assistant.

Desperate, she blindly began to push her way through the crowd looking for Tidus: he was on the third tier of the raised dais; two long minutes more elapsed as the blonde head kept turned from her; then upon turning, he warmed and smiled across the distance, then rapidly frowned as she tried to use the secret language of love from the third chapter of the sutras to warn him – she snapped her fan in the direction of the closest blonde with a staff and basket of oranges then pointed it at her eye, then touched her jongdo: _See him- I see danger!_ He was dangerously still for a moment, then with an intense burning look he nodded and disappeared.

Now ignoring good manners, she practically ran back to the maester, who was now pointedly looking at her, frowning slightly at the breach of protocol, which she'd never broken before; his pale blue eyes widened as the first pops of fireworks went off and at the frightening sight of a ball of flame erupting behind her, blooming dangerously close to the royal pavilion; the crowd panicked and became a sea of screaming sheep stampeding for the safety of the massive stone walls of the temple; but the circle of blonde heads stayed. She screamed at Seymour to get to the palace, get the rest of the guard, shoved him thru the temple doors and blindly, viciously began to push her way back to the pavilion; she gained leverage after leaping up on the little tables and leaping her way from one to another. The first blonde head was so intent on readying his next bomb, he never saw her leaping from the table, katana drawn; his arm was cut clear off and he watched it topple in fascination until a second arc of the katana took his head off.

_That's MY girl,_ Tidus proudly thought as he saw her, as he stood shoulder to shoulder, surrounding the imperial family as they slowly backed a group to a hidden door in the temple wall, some 100 yards distant. They then ran back insanely ducking the barrage of small bombs to get the next group.

They all gaped at the sight of the near empty great courtyard, some tables in flame, divots of dirt exposed with bricks flying every time a bomb went off; it was a clever attack and was succeeding; they'd never had anyone think of explosives, and now, they paid dearly for it; two of the guard went down trying to take out a blond head, leaving only a group of 6 to surround the emperor, who refused to leave until the rest of his family were safe. They grimly settled in and waited, praying for backup as his oldest guard vainly tried to insist the son of heaven move; through the noise, his voice could be heard roaring, "Be damned man! I'll not run like a basting cleft! Get my family out!" Tidus screamed over his shoulder: "Yes! Stay in sight! As long as they think you're takeable, they'll forget the rest!"

The backup was coming, they all heard the palace gongs beating the alarm; but it was precious minutes away. Another backup came in the form of a little black eagle, advancing by leaps and bounds in the smoking mess; gaping, they saw her go after each blonde figure with a deadly accuracy and take out, one, two, more capering figures with mops of blonde hair; then four came at her en masse, drawing swords from the sticks and canes in a deadly rondori, this time unevenly weighted, while the remaining nine continued to throw bombs and advance on the little group left on the pavilion dais.

They went white and silent, thinking they would see the end of her, but somehow, amidst the storm of slashing swords and screaming attacks, she became as the eye in a hurricane. An overhand strike was gracefully blocked with a wrist of steel. A body twisted in the air in an arc, thrown into another figure, going down in a tumble into the bricks. She dropped in the infamous dojo move, spun to her left and hacked through the legs of the second blonde. The remaining one leapt upon her, only to be met with her blade; they went at each other like two cats, blades spitting and sparking with the force of the blows. He kicked at her, only to have the leg caught and she upended him, slamming him into the ground, and shoved at the leg until a satisfying scream was heard at the joint breaking. She swiftly thrust into his throat and in a swirl of steel flipped the blade and thrust backward into the belly of the first attacker without even a glance backwards, whom had recovered enough to try again.

She began to run forward, but exhausted and sweating blood from bruises and nicks, she knew she was not able to handle them all; in a black humor she wished she had a grenade or a rocket launcher from Earth, then shocked, she remembered it was a night of fireworks – they were surrounded by rockets and bombs in racks! She started to scream at the little knot of guards surrounding the son of heaven, but some of the words were drowned by the blasts:"-the fire-s to - -blow—! Goddammit! BLOW THEM! –--ight FIRE –it- FIRE! TIDUSSS! BLOW THEM!"

Tidus jerked his head around at his name and puzzled he stared for a second; then he understood! He yelled into the knot: "Two men! Pull the rack of fireworks up and blow THEM up! Fight fire with fire!" Two men broke free, ran behind the little group of steel katanas and started to drag the 20 foot rack forward, joints popping and muscles straining; when it was by the long banquet table, they dumped it over on its side on the table; the knot of men all ducked below the table behind them and rolled, then everyone that had flints struck them, lighting fuses; then they all ran like banshees for the secret door, shoving the emperor through and seeing him falling into the door, slammed it shut and crouched as the first fireworks blew.

The night was lit up into a hellish scene, as 9 blonde headed men blew into bits by beautiful chrysanthemums, flying mortars, and sparkling skyrockets; in the quiet before the second volley of fireworks went off, they cheered and they saw their little eagle jumping up and down in a fierce joy. Then horrified they saw a throwing dagger explode from the left and land in her right chest; she looked down, startled at the bloom of blood on her gi. Now white, she looked across the distance at the source, another half dozen men in assassins garb appearing from nowhere; she then stared across the distance at the remaining imperial guards and Tidus with a breathless intensity; suddenly she spun and threw the katana with all her might at them, spinning through flame and smoke; they cried as one, thinking she'd gone mad, then shocked, they saw a last blonde head fall to their left, his basket of bombs spilling and rolling towards them. They threw themselves flat as the final volley of fireworks exploded in tandem with the bombs. Then the imperial guards came swarming in, chasing the assassins through the temple grounds and streets beyond, filling the silence with all too real noise.

The courtyard was a royal mess, but the stones of the temple walls had held; the emperor and his family were alive, and people slowly came out to put out fires, look for any wounded, and gather the bodies of those who had died. The imperial guards that Seymour dispatched from the palace cordoned off the courtyard, not even letting Tidus in; after nearly taking a guard's head off, he suddenly turned away with dead eyes, as he knew in his heart his Tarja was gone. Disconsolate, he sat in the temple, exhausted, sooty and scraped, ignoring any who tried to talk reason into him, to the point of drawing his sword in the temple. Lord Seymour and his closest friend, Akiro Ishii, the son of heaven, quietly let themselves in near dawn and had the guard shut the doors.

Akiro, emperor, defender of Djevon, lion of the throne and the son of heaven knelt down, lit incense sticks for Tarja and after a silence, he began to speak:" Ah. My son, my beloved son of my beloved…. I don't even know to begin to comfort you. Your little eagle is gone, just as my Titania, your mother, is gone to me. And it has left such a hole in my life, I wonder how I can enjoy anything, even after all these years. At least I had the comfort of a child; you do not; it was as if your Tarja came in a dream, and left upon waking. I have no words to offer in comfort. That which you loved and that made you into the man you are today is gone. I grieve, as I do for all wild things killed untimely. Come, my heart of my heart. Come home to me. Teach an old man how to remember to grieve. Teach me how to comfort you. "

Tidus spoke around the lump in his throat, his voice a husk in the quiet of the temple: "A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages…" He turned to his father and even more quietly said: "She taught me that." In the quiet, an old man gripped a young man's hand and let him weep as long as he needed.

In the dark courtyard, two guards carefully lifted a figure in a black hakama, ensuring the dagger stayed lodged in the chest and began to bear it away. After nearly dropping their precious burden, a faint string of curses in Spirean, then in English followed them as they stole away to the docks.

Dawn came on little cat feet again, and with it, many changes in the temple. More dawns crept in on little grey feet, but trainees were not caught off guard anymore. Certain of the guard were honored; defensive and offensive methods using fireworks were immediately put into practice in the imperial guardhouse. People were moved to houses of healing; memorial services for lives lost were conducted; the empress Yu-Shinta was ordered into seclusion as the inquiry found her culpable in the assassination attempt; and a bastard son was inducted into the imperial guard and ordered to be assigned a lady-in-training for his own guardhouse before the mid-summer O-Bon festival.

The ceremony started in the golden afternoon, beams slicing into the temple hall striking the golden image of Djevon in the pose of 'the dreaming one' and illuminating the altar; the temple maester turned to Tidus and murmured "Someone has whispered in Djevon's ear today – how fortunate we are for a day like today, yes?" Tidus tersely nodded, choosing to remain silent. He was faintly bored with the ceremony of the awards, and for the 1,000th time wondered why he allowed them all to convince him to come; it was all imperial politics.

He sighed and hoped they were right, in time he would get used to his new position, and besides, it pleased the son of heaven to ensure Tidus' happiness in his household. _Riiiiight. He’d probably plan to award me and my new shield guard with an excuse of a lady to lead us, probably some dried up old virgin or a cousin with a face like a horse and brains to match._ He had caught the grins that Seymour and his father had exchanged, thinking they were unseen; they had forgotten there was a mirror in the room, and as he turned, they were deadly solemn, but a faint air of amusement clung to the scene. After he left, the son of heaven turned to Seymour and said: "Djevon's balls, you know you're old when you see your son behaving like you, 2 decades removed! ….are you sure she's well enough to go through with this?"

"Oh, yes. They didn't know. Her world makes it a habit to wear armor under clothing; the dagger only went in to the muscle. Even if she hadn't, she would have survived. She's human; her heart is on the left, not the right. That was good thinking, by the way. It made the bugs swarm out of the woodwork, didn't it?"

The pair of conspirators took their respective positions in the temple and the lady-elect appeared at the entrance, veiled to the floor and in a simple nun's high court kimono, leaning on Maester Seymour's strong arm, whom was magnificently displayed in a high court kimono of deep red, carefully draped in Guado style off his shoulders, showing an admirable physique; gold chains twinkled and his house sigil glittered on his chest, set with rare sun's eye diamonds and rubies like drops of blood.

Tidus walked up the aisle opposite Seymour, the new lady of the shield guard between them, eyes focused on the altar. The lady on Seymour's arm moved slowly, as if reluctant; halfway up everyone could see she was in pain, but held her head high with regal stubbornness, insistent on reaching the altar. Soft cries and gasps began to rise up and follow her as she traversed the aisle step by painful step; suddenly people, especially the members of the guard were bowing, kneeling and murmurs of 'lady' 'blessed of heaven' and other soft cries of devotion started to echo in the temple dome. Puzzled, Tidus began to look at the pair next to him; Seymour was suave, his face bland, but a gleam in his cool blue eyes bespoke of a subtle amusement at Tidus' puzzled face. Tidus still could not make out the woman's face under the floor length veil, and impatient, he turned and faced the giant Dreaming One and folded his hands in prayer to his chest.

Finally the woman was standing by his side, still as a stone statue. The temple Maester began his ritual prayers and a half turn of the clock later he announced the appointment of Tidus to the Imperial court as master of the shield guard and the appointment of a Lady to represent them. Tidus held his hand forward to have his hand wrapped with the traditional tasseled white rope and when the Lady's hand was wrapped and placed in his, he was startled to feel calluses. _Oh great…a Djevonite nun; some guard we're going to have_ he thought _;_ then she moved slightly, the robe suddenly swirling with her movement and dropping down light as a feather over his left boot. He raised his foot to toss the hateful garment of the now-hateful nun off him, and a flash of gold made him look again: slowly, he realized the robe was exquisitely embroidered gold on heavy black silk, a design of mountains with astanga trees peeping out from stylized clouds; not a nun's garment, but a subtle deception. In a moment of mental flashback, he remembered this very robe adorning a personal weapon running gracefully to the edge of a tatami, dropping and gliding like a swan across the floor to him as he sat dumbfounded.

They had turned to face the temple and bowed as customary; then he began to tremble, half incredulous, half fearful that he was mistaken, that the thought of her alive and next to him was a madness that he was imagining. It was now time to raise the heavy veil, and he looked down again; yes, it WAS the same kimono in his memory – he could just make out the two eagles on the right shoulder; the Lady was the height he remembered, but he could not make out her face or hair color; he slowly drew off the veil at first, then, impatient with his fears, he snapped the remaining length away with a flip of his wrist.

Stunned, he took in her beautiful face, untouched by war, the eyes two limpid pools of blue mercury sparkling with anticipation; Tidus felt himself moved in ways undefined and with eyes bigger than saucers, he took in one Tarja Romanova from Earth.

Those attending the appointment of Tidus and Tarja were half shocked and half charmed by the obvious surprise shown at the traditional unveiling of the Lady, but then, what did all royal bastards exist for?

Once alone, though, they both became shy; then slowly they circled each other, until courage stepped in and let eyes meet eyes. Suddenly Tidus burst out: "Oh! You cruel, cruel traitor! I thought you were dead! How could you leave me? I saw the blade go in, oh Djevon, I swear I saw you die! – Are you real? Truly?”

Cocking an eyebrow, she grasps his hands and lets him feel the warmth of hers, and he gently chides her: “So, are you ready for the training of the role of a Lady?? It won’t be easy, I’m a hard teacher…After all, I've been trained in the art of love as well as war since age 13…."

"-And you know damned well you're going to get your way, no matter what the court says." She finishes for him.

_I was dying inside before I caught you on that cliff side and now, I am alive. And I've never had so much fun in all my life;_ he thinks with a wicked glint in his eye, slowly watching her retreating form down the great hallway. _Now, let me tame you to my hand only, little eagle. I didn't mention what all that training was for, did I?_


	13. Chapter 13

Dawn awoke him with a soft caress of rose hued light through the beaded curtain and he stretched luxuriously; he couldn't remember a time when his mind and body had never seemed more relaxed and at one with each other. With a grin, he flopped back on the bed, silently laughing as the feathers from a ripped pillow flew up and lazily floated down over him. He had fallen asleep to serious thoughts last night; he had wondered how he would feel tomorrow after all this emotional expression of pent-up dreams coming true had taken place. He never expected to wake up laughing! _Life always finds a way to take you on unexpected turns,_ he wryly thought.

Suddenly feeling energetic, he bounced off the bed, dove into the shower and ran into the dawn to join the morning exercises, the tai'chi'chuan to clear the mind and prepare the body for the work of the day ahead. Guards and temple priests both smiled behind his back, seeing the glow of energy Tidus wore this morning. Rarely did they see a new guard arrive before noon the day after the appointment night; normally, passion and love were also consummated between the shield & the sword, as custom dictated the two be a pair in real life as well as in court life. However, the imperial son of heaven’s wishes that his son not be intimate with an offworlder was made clear and Tidus, mindful of his new role, obeyed without question.

In ignorance, the guard nodded and winked at each other in a conspiracy of ribald humor, spoken just within earshot to tease the young guard.

"Ahhh, what it must be, to have a Lady so eager all one has to do is lay back and enjoy the ride!"

"Perhaps he was lucky, she passed out with too much wine before she had the chance break his back – I am sure that one would be a ride wild as horses from the steppes!"

"I am amazed, he must have worn armor in the wedding nest, I see no claw marks from that little eagle!"

Tidus broke down and laughed, sweating from the vigorous moves; the imperial guard had nary a fat roll to show, even the senior guards with iron grey in their hair; and they intended to keep it that way. The imperial guard took their duties with all seriousness; in fact, they were all secretly pleased Tidus had the self discipline to rise and practice, despite the excuse of love being handy. They knew his priorities were set well like theirs and now knew he was a good fit. A friendly hand threw him a towel with further jibes:

"Better shower again before tonight's duty at the feast! We don't want those hawk-eyed ladies smelling fresh carrion to pick on!"

"Ay, they'll strip this golden morsel in minutes and his own little eagle will have naught but bones to pick tonight!"

The rest of the day was spent with other training; horse, bow and arrow, sword, explosives, a nasty defense method only known as kryk, nicknamed after the sound of a breaking neck; then reporting and records; the guard seemed hell bent at times to keep him laughing until his sides hurt, as the story of his early rise after the appointment night was passed on from practice to practice. So before he knew it, he was dressed in the formal guard's hakama and striding rapidly down the great hallway with his mates into a formal entertaining room on the 3rd level of the bastion. It was a lovely space, less opulent than the formal rooms for visiting dignitaries; but it was designed with exquisite taste and exuded a warmth the other rooms did not.

The imperial family swept in and all bowed, except the guards, to watch for assassins. When seated, the guard then bowed to the son of heaven and his progeny. He wanted to acknowledge his son tonight; his wish to polish Tidus had been taken seriously, and he was proud of the way his son had changed into the man he had hoped for – His father's talent, but sharpened with his mother's blood, quick wit and beauty – which he still missed sorely, even after a decade. He now decided to show favor, but obliquely, keeping the balance in his court, so none felt anything but the sun of his presence.

After the meal was underway, the main course had passed and they were cleansing their palates for the next three courses, he leaned to the maester Seymour and started a conversation: "So, I hear your collection of weapons is beginning to outshine mine, maester; how is this so? You always have this way of making me feel like a country upstart ever since we were in temple training! I hear you now have one so sharp it would cut Djevon himself, should he come close enough! I must see, so I may be protected from Djevon on a bad day! "

The clever man paused long enough for maester to smoothly rise to his sally; Seymour gently insisted there were no finer weapons than the son of heaven's and gently teasing, stated Akiro would set a new fashion, all the armorers would be demanding gold instead of black metal for weapons. It was an oblique reference to Tidus' golden head, the only one in the guard; all others were black or iron grey.

The emperor was greatly amused and wittily replied with a double entendre: "Why shouldn't the son of heaven have something of the sun of heaven around him occasionally?", not only slyly referring to Tidus' status as his son, but also to the gold of his hair which was a symbol of the sun in his court, and used plentifully, decorating armor, walls, and even courtesans; then he demanded someone bring the maester's weapon forward so he may inspect it himself.

The foot guards at the son of heaven's chair bowed and ran out the door; two more seamlessly moved into take their place, one of them Tidus, to his left.

The guards ran back in and bowed when reached ten steps from the chair, then faced the doors in the clear space in the middle of the floor. A slim figure in black delicately ran in to the edge of the tatami, dropped to her knees and gracefully walked on her knees until she was ten steps away from the kneeling guards. A proper bow, head almost to mat, finished Tarja's entrance and she waited with calm, letting the emperor peruse her for as long as he liked.

Akiro chuckled and said, "So this is the personal weapon of Maester Seymour! My, I wonder that Seymour does not already fancy himself emperor, from the amount of respect she gives upon entering a room to the man! Again, my court is now disgraceful, I feel like we are in the country and I sit upon a bale of hay instead of the throne of heaven– even my weapons are disrespectful to me compared to this!" Changing tone in an instant, he now sharply rang out: "But pretty manners do not make for a sharp weapon – come, show us how sharp you are, weapon."

At that, the two kneeling foot guards sprang into action, commencing an attack on her, as if she were an assassin approaching the throne. She did not move from kneeling, even when the first was almost upon her; she brought her scabbard up over her head and blocked his blow to hers, then with bringing her hands together at the middle of the scabbard, swiftly turned it, knocking the wind out of him as he flipped over the scabbard, neatly brought down as if a clothesline had been strung across his path. The second was upon her then and she simply dove in between his legs, sliding on the mat behind him, then unfolded into second position; she no longer had her katana and scabbard; the guard ran at her for a what he thought was a simple strike; she raised her arm like a sword, wrist meeting wrist like two hilts locking, stepped sideways mere inches and deftly redirected his force, avoiding the blow; she grasped his wrist and spun him about her until the arm was torqued into a staff of pain digging into his shoulder nerves, but then, a clever man, he escaped by becoming the falling reed, hoping to throw her over him and then pin her; but somehow, as she was thrown, right shoulder leading, she seemed to wriggle in the air like a fish and started to land left handed, her arm tightening into a hard curve to absorb the impact; the katana and scabbard was underneath, she grabbed it as she completed her roll, spun and met the man's killing strike to the body with a block.

For two and a half more minutes the guards attempted to break her, and they failed, as she moved in the style she knew, fighting on knees, redirecting force, a light foot against a table edge to stop and turn abruptly, an even lighter leap on an attacker's brawny thigh to gain leverage to bring him down on the floor.

The emperor sharply clapped and the three warriors relaxed, sweating and mussed, bowing in respect to each other for the most adrenaline filled 3 minutes of their lives. All three bowed again to the emperor, and all positions were resumed as before.

"I see we have things to learn in this country court! Perhaps you will lend this weapon for a while, Seymour?

"The weapon is a gift, if you desire so, Son of the House of Rising Suns!"

"Eh? I accept, provided you send a goodly supply of bandages with her! My thanks for being so forbearing with my court's needs, Maester - shall we drink to your health now, yes?"

As the court broke into its polite applause at the witty exchange between two old friends, holding out their cups to be filled for the toast, the emperor quietly remarked as if to himself, yet audible enough for his golden haired bastard son guardian to hear: "Perhaps this lovely weapon will learn something of Spirea while serving the Court of Heaven as a lady-in training; perhaps, this memory of…Earth…will pale when given a good home to fly to." A delicate pause occurred as the son of heaven sipped his wine, then with dry humor continued: "Perhaps a beloved son of the imperial house can be useful and become a shield to pair with so fine a weapon; he has allowed himself to be forged into good metal, as I have seen." _My precious son of my beloved, perhaps you and she together can free us all from Yu-Shinta…but that is your fight, not mine. But tonight you have my blessing to try…and my love._

Walking forward to claim his right to escort his hand-tamed eagle of Earth to a seat, Tidus turns back and grins, a glimpse of the old clever warlord before him in his young face and charmingly flirts with the royal temper:

"We are just men and she a woman. Women and eagles will do as they choose; we men can only grow accustomed to it!"

And suddenly the greying iron fist of a man laughs heartily, thinking: _Ah, royal bastards! What else do they exist for? Ah. Yes. Love, and Revenge._

****

 


	14. Chapter 14

The newly formed guard went drinking in temple bar that night; they baptized Tarja with sake, then wine, then Aki. They were all fairly good intoxicants by Spirean standards, and soon Tarja was fairly buzzed, but still well in control. As her mates were all throwing dice and gambling avidly, Tidus made his way to her side, secretly eager to have a chance of being with her without going through a chapter of protocol. “How wasted are you?" Tidus asked in her ear. "Pretty drunk so far!" she managed past the sudden lump in her throat. "Then that's NOT drunk enough!" he laughed. Boldly, he took her hand and pulled her through the crowd, looking at faces and occasionally barking: “where is it?” Elbowing his way into a corner he finally found a cask of the really strong stuff, the eden of intoxicants, the drink only known as the black. It was actually distilled 5 times until pure and clear as water, but so potent you simply saw black after drinking three cups.

Tidus held out his hand for a cup, was handed one brimful of the spirits and theatrically brought it up high, screaming it was the human's first taste of the black; he slowly brought it to her mouth and quietly said to her ears alone: "Drink quickly, its the fumes that intoxicate, not the liquid." She took it in, gulping as quickly as she could, foolishly sucking in air after each swallow and got hit with a bounce to her reality; eyes swimming, sensesreeling, she gasped; everyone around her roared approval and then was immediately followed by cries of “Another! _”_

Tidus was handed another cup, and again he tilted it down her throat for her; she swayed dangerously as the second imbibement hit her bloodstream; the crowd moaned in consternation, then cheered as she held her head up and slurred "One more, cap-TAIN!" Tidus’ eyebrows raised, and the cup was passed once more; she tilted the 3rd cup down herself, and they all waited to see if she passed to black.

Tarja relaxed her throat to let the libation slide down like a shot of old fashioned Earth Rum and for a few dangerous moments, she saw stars as a rush of warmth filled her bloodstream, spilling the black through her body. She fought for control, and got it. She upended the cup, firmly slapped it down on the bar in a victory salute and then hanging onto the bar for dear life she turned to her drinking companion: "Weeellll now, master guardian Tidus, that's how Earth girls drink! Can't ya'll keep up with us or what?" her mates screamed in laughter, then pulled her back stumbling to the private room reserved for them in the inn.

Courtesans, consorts, and other entertainers all spun in a dizzying array of sensual pleasures; some danced with a flying grace, smoothly moving in time to the throb of drums; other slipped and slithered across the floor with sensual abandon. Tidus was lord of it all; he led the drinking games in royal fashion, ensuring his team had the best of everything and enjoying the sensual pleasures in ways they’d never thought of, like being served sushi on a pair of twin courtesans, lying on the tables, the pretty rolls of rice and fish arranged in swirling designs on their nude bodies. Jingo was the first to strip and lead the party in a kura-mei with not one, but both of the twins, showing great enthusiasm; Tarja was too drunk to be shocked at the intimacy laid bare for all to see and enjoy. Fascinated, she watched Jingo’s athletic body move as if he was in a choreographed dance, the moves very practiced and stylized; it was like watching sex in the movies for her at times, the play of passion set to the beat of Spirean music. She felt unreal, like she was at a circus, but one of unabashed sensuality and eroticism; she owlishly tilted her head at the guard mates all pounding their cups on the table to the beat and swivel of the courtesan’s hips as Jingo theatrically ground into her, while kissing the second and occasionally letting her pour wine down his throat. Their faces were openly enjoying their mate’s pleasure at being brought to a climax of pleasure by two women, and he was enjoying showing them how much he was enjoying himself. It wasn’t voyeuristic, it wasn’t kinky, it wasn’t frottage, it wasn’t anything she could put a name to; the joy at feeling pleasure was somehow…pure; unadulterated with shame or fear, nothing like sex back on Earth. Puzzled, she wondered: _How the hell do they do it? I can’t even take my clothes off to get in the bath in front of_ _them without blushing, much less bring a partner to a climax in public! Hell, since when have I had a partner? Shut UP, Tarja-girl….you’re Human. Not one of them._

She became horribly, thoroughly intoxicated; she passed from blind drunk to wasted to totally hammered in the space of two hours. She remembered delicately licking a drop of honey liquor off the finger of a pretty golden skinned consort from the south, teasing him by saying he was melting in the heat of the room; after she’d shyly tasted, light as a butterfly, she playfully dipped a finger in her cup of liquor, extended it and imitated the action; he caught her finger with a sly nip of white teeth shaking it gently as she yelped, making the guards laugh; he called out, “Oh no more of this sweet flesh, I will be ruined if I do!” “ Oh? Why, Zander?” A half dozen voices called, mocking him with a familiarity that bespoke of former intimacies; “I’ll die a poor man! I’ll never want to do it with anyone else, she’s as innocent as a nun and sweet as bee pollen on the wind!” They roared in laughter at his playful mock innocence and began to bang their cups on the table yelling for another kura-mei.

Zander smiled a little wider, shook his dark gold head out and slowly pulled Tarja to him, anticipating a sweet reward; it wasn’t often he’d gotten the chance to play with someone who was inexperienced.

Tarja was on wings as the black had mounted to her head; Zander was pleasing, and he had the form of what she fantasized about in her mind a million times over. He was like the object of her obsession, but with a longer, darker mane like a lion, lighter blue eyes, but the same lean bronzed frame with high pectorals and slim waist. Tempted, she leaned in for a kiss, which he slowly, sensually gifted her with, hoping she’d pick him for the night, and not for money only. She seemed gentle and the innocence was too much for him to resist.

The guard cheered and Jingo tilted a draught down Tarja’s throat screaming to go on, but she laughed at them, nearly falling off her pillow and said she’d better practice before showing her face in a kura-mei . Disappointed they groaned, but Tarja shrugged it off. However, she did not let go of Zander’s hand as she lay there on the pillow and surprisingly, asked: “Want to dance?” Grinning, Zander started to bob and weave around her on his knees to the dull thud beyond the doors. Impatient, she shook her head and pointed to the door, somehow got to her feet, pulled it open and dragged Zander with her, disappearing into the smoke and darkness like genii disappearing back into the fabled lamp, leaving a drift of smoke in their wake. The guard all stared at each other, and suddenly screamed in laughter even harder, downed drinks in single gulps and piled out the door as one man to see how an Earth woman dances when totally annihilated on the black. It was too good to pass up.

The dance floor was filled with drunken patrons, and all manner of people dancing to the throb and heavy beat of the drums. Zander had a superb body and knew how to use it, even when blind drunk; Tarja looked fairly ridiculous, but no more than any other patron stumbling about after drinking themselves blind with Aki and the black. Following Zander blindly, Tarja looked like a stilted stork dancing instead of a graceful eagle; She stumbled a few times, but managed to keep a beat despite the drunken quirky grin on her face and the men’s clothing she wore didn’t add to her grace. But Zander didn’t care, he knew she was full of untasted honey and felt the pull of those eyes of mercury lavender blue; so he just pulled her closer until the beat slowed down and ended. _I want you, sweet rose_ , he wickedly whispered in her ear as his eye fell on Tidus, scowling like thunder in the darkness.

Oh, he knew what was in Tidus’ mind; Zander knew he had more than a passing resemblance to the imperial bastard and it wasn’t hard for an experienced eye like his to see Tidus had a glimpse of his private fantasy of playing with a very private pet played out before the whole room. Fanning the fire, Zander slowly drew her boots on for her, lingering over a goodbye kiss, his hands trailing in a deliberate caress down from the wealth of hair to the narrow waist to a well rounded ass he was dying to get into, then let go with a subtle caress running down her arm, gently brushing fingertips in farewell. He almost giggled at the drunk bastard’s rush to her side and waited until the jealous captain had roughly pushed Tarja to herd her back to the guard party before he sweetly called out: “O sweet jade-eyed lady? Come see me…It’d be my pleasure to teach you to dance!”

It was worth it to see the look of pure blue jealousy shot at him; laughing, he responded with a certain gesture and turned back to the room, looking to sting his next victim with his own honey of love.

Tarja was thoroughly thumped on the back for her performance and they stumbled onto the next pleasure stop, doing ridiculous imitations of her stilted steps, and playfully joking at perverting consorts into monks. She shrugged back into her gi and retied her Obi with unsteady fingers, and giggled silently at the jokes. She felt great, one of the crowd in an elite club in this city of elites and they were on fire with a good time.

A pavilion of flowers was invaded next and Tidus, now outright pissed off, decided to make Tarja suffer for her defection from his hand. Of course, in his own smashed state of mind it didn’t occur to him that his private pet was still unaware of his intent for her and had not consented, much less been informed he even had any feelings whatsoever!

His jealousy grew teeth at having another man fondle what he wanted so badly to touch and seeing her enjoyment of another’s hand set his bastard mood off; the girls fell on him, nearly fighting to be part of the party. The group was given a room to play in, and succession of entertainments came and went; Iwami and Jingo the insatiable started a chant for kura-mei again and surprisingly, Tidus rose; he held his hand out to a pretty wench with golden brown hair, golden skin and eyes; the Topaz she was called, a nickname from days past when she was part of the House of Jade. The small group of musicians were thrown coin and he carelessly called ’Isle of Kisses’ as he charmingly grinned at the beauty, caressing her and pulling her pretty amber silk kimono off her at the same time; his mocking eye caught Tarja’s as he lazily shrugged out of his black gi, the girl eagerly responding to his caresses; he’d never seen her eyes so wide.

_What a nun,_ he thought. _Let me show you how’s it’s really done, my little eagle; biting the hand that feeds you is never wise…and now is your moment from hell for letting that little prick of a consort kiss you!_ He expertly moved in rhythm with his partner, smoothly changing from one extraordinary erotic position to another, demonstrating his mastery of the 108 positions of the sutras of the book of love. The Topaz played well with her delightful partner, even mockingly covering herself up for a moment when she sat astride his lap in reverse, then with a lovely helpless smile and shrug, opened her arms wide as if to say ‘Oh well! Since I’m on display, I may as well give them all an eyeful of my heaven!’

The guard, much excited, began to bang their cups again in time with the drum beat and the couple’s rhythm, until the music ended and they all cheered wildly. Tarja had sat there stunned, then hurriedly began to clap and whistle, her cheeks flushed with more than drink. Ashamed, she had climaxed; she kept her eyes downcast so no one, especially her secret obsession, could see the limpid soft eyes or the tremble of her mouth. _God, I hope they can’t smell the hormones…_

The fact she had been that excited at the sight of two handsome people making love on top of the table less than six feet away from her had shaken her up very badly; she was disgusted that she had responded to the scene in that way. She downed more Aki to drown the guilt of envisioning herself in the Topaz’s place, then tried to numb a flood of emotions washing over her: Anxiety, sex, fear, desire for someone she could never have in reality, somehow all nailed together with a hot spike of jealousy. She felt ugly and thought Tidus had thought her no better than a brute animal during the act. It hurt in a way she didn’t want to admit to herself; but she had to face it: She was the gauche offworlder, a _gai-jin_ ; she was no lady; even the worst of courtesans in temple bar had more grace and loveliness than she, even in her finest moment. She felt the gap between them widen to impossible dimensions; there was no way she could ever compete with years of training to the pleasure arts like this.

Tidus’ revenge was perfect, too perfect. She understood the sneering look in his eyes as he had disrobed, the golden body a symphony of erotic skill; it was a lesson that she would never forget: she was scorned. Ashamed now, she came to the conclusion that they had only tolerated her, or worse, were getting her drunk, setting her up, just so they could laugh at her later. _Look at what happened with Zander; how the hell am I supposed to perform like an acrobat at a sex convention when all I’ve done is with an audience of one? God, I am so ashamed. He really thinks I’m an asshole. I want out of this, NOW!_ She wanted to run away and down the streets of temple bar until her head cleared; she wistfully looked to the little courtyard through the shoji screen and wondered if the gate was unlocked. She started to quietly move backwards and towards the open doors a stealthy pillow at a time while the revelers toasted Tidus or flirted with the lovely Topaz.

Djanis was thoughtfully looking at her and sensitive, he caught something in the set of the little eagle’s face that spoke to him. He had felt lonely and ashamed more than once in his quest for a lady and wisely guessed that Tarja felt the same. He decided he’d stand up to the bastard of a captain, since he had seen the scowl and the sneer; he could not abide cruelty and he saw it in plenty tonight in Tidus’ entire attitude towards her. There, he knew he was right; a tear was welling up in her lovely eye glimpsed through a curtain of soft silky hair. He felt a slow disgust at Tidus grow; he was being wholly an arrogant ass towards her and for no good reason he could see. He guessed she was tried to process too much of Spirean ways at once and she had stumbled somehow; but that was just as much Tidus’ fault, no, all their fault for not coaching her more before a public outing. He angered as he realized that Tidus had planned the evening: _Why, that bastard must have planned it to be an embarrassment to our guest; he never even asked her what she’d like to do, what her customs are, or if she understood Spirean party protocol! Imperial or not, that is rude. She’s the lady–in–training, not a servant! Let’s see what I can do to level the playing field._

Softly putting a foot on Tarja’s moving pillow, he stopped her creep to the courtyard. His eye caught hers and he smiled, pretending he was more drunk than he was and threw an arm about her shoulders; and he whispered: “Darling girl, don’t let that spoilt bastard see you run; I’ll get you out of this; stick by Sanjina and I for a bit. Now go, give him his Aki and let him choke on it.” Tarja flushed at being caught out, but seeing the kindly, sad eyes and the sincerity in his bass voice, she suddenly realized he liked her.

So she set her face into a steel actor’s mask, set a thimble of Aki in front of Tidus and toasted him like all the rest. Tarja was very polite and respectful to him as any guard would treat a captain, her eyes and face smooth as glass, faintly smiling, but he could sense she ever so subtly withdrew from him; she avoided his gaze, distantly focusing on a point past his shoulder, even fastidiously pulling her sleeve a fraction of an inch away from even touching him. He wanted to see her react, anything, a frown, a tear in her eye, a slap to his face, a petulant shove away, anything, anything but this wall. Did he mean so little to her? _Don’t you care enough to even tell me I’m a bastard? How can I stop your protests with kisses, your anger would be soooo right for me now, I would show you what it means to be mine, washiita – how can I show you when you insist on being the warrior instead of the woman?_ A slow anger at the small insult of indifferent silence began to build, and he vowed drunkenly he’d make her pay not only before the sun rose, but all day tomorrow at the practice from hell he planned just for her.

While Tidus was distracted with Tarja’s toast, Djanis quietly asked if anyone had asked Tarja about what she considered a good time when they discussed their plans. Several eventually realized no one had asked her for her opinion. The guard, now half ashamed, started to surreptiously watch Tarja out the corner of their eyes while drinking and quietly commented amongst themselves that it seemed she wasn’t really relaxing anymore, noting the too polite, tense set of her body in front of Tidus. Most of them put it down to being new and not wishing to offend, a point in her favor. They liked her, they thought she was behaving politely and would soon loosen up, once she got to know them as men, and not guards.

Djanis, pretending to be well into his cup now, simply shrugged and said, “Let her drink some more. We should ask her what she’d like to do later. Maybe Aki is too weak for her digestion - we should get some off world liquor for her.” Jingo looked crafty, his monkey’s eyes saucy and pert; Djanis and Iwami looked at each other, rolled their eyes and said “Spill it, mate!” Jingo licked his lips, lowered his voice and said: “Let’s go to the House of the Rising Sun.” They drew back shaking their heads; “Oh no… Oh no-no-no!” Djanis protested; “The last time we tried to get in, Tidus had to bribe the owner not to take you to lower court for posing as an offworlder! You cost me a week’s pay, AND we all got our balls twisted by the captain for days!” Iwami agreed, saying: ”Look, unless you’ve got an offworld girl tucked in between your 6 other girlfriends, there’s just no way we’ll get in! Only offworlders and their guests get in! We have to think of something else, mate!”

Jingo grinned and screeched in laughter, kicking and rolling on the pillows howling at the top of his lungs; he rose cackling and fell against Iwami pointing a finger in his face, his voice imitating Iwami’s whine in a falsetto: “Only off-worlders and their guests get in, and Djevon on a good night! How many off-worlders do YOU know, Iwami?”

Iwami looked around at the 11 pairs of eyes looking at him with interest and now furious, yelled: “NONE!” at Jingo’s clever wizened monkey’s face.

“Ah-HAH! You’re wrong!” “Huh?” Iwami cocked his head puzzled; Jingo shifted his pointing finger to the right, grabbing Iwami’s nose and pulling it in the same direction; the finger squarely landed on Tarja. “Her.” Jingo proudly announced.

Iwami stared; Djanis slammed his cup down, mentally swaggering as he thought: _Ah-HAH, you pricking bastard, Tidus!_ Then rather awed, he stated in the silence: “Oh by shit of the holy lord of light, we’re finally going to get in the House of the Rising Sun!”

All worries forgotten, the guard-mates all looked very interestedly at Tarja and grinned at Tidus , who shrugged and pointed to the door.

The House of the Rising Sun was a place where offworlders came, so it was the place of all things, anyplace, anytime – a Babylon of music, liquor, and sex partners from a dozen different worlds all vied for attention here. It was always open, it never closed, and it was one of the most sought-after houses to see and be seen in the capital. Offworlders were fiercely segregated from the populace, as the leaders of the country wanted to keep the visitors under a tight rein of control.

One night could see the floor filled with tall dark skinned spacer barge crews jumping and up and down to thumping chants and drums with strong beer, or brightly skirted dark-eyed women playing shrieking violins and leading wild gypsy-esque dances, incited from a sweetly smoking herb inhaled in odd pipes that sat three feet tall and let a full six people smoke at once. Music could be anything from acoustic to subsonic synth, and tonight it was electric!

Tarja’s heart beat faster as she recognized the heavy thump of amplified music, with a voice carrying a melody! Excited, she grinned at Sanjina, as the willowy silver haired archer met her eyes in a complicit nod; she’d been an avid fan of the House of the Rising Sun ever since she came to the capitol 4 years ago as a scared girl of 15 years, sent as a gift by her mother to the court. She had been the guest of an ambassador’s son that first summer, and had been in love with the music, which suited her young soul far better than the traditional samisen and flute of the high court.

Tarja was pushed up to the door with a wad of credits for bribery in her Obi; her off-world status was verified, a pin-pricked drop of blood dropped in a tall glass vial of chemicals that made Spirean blood turn black and all others non-Spirean dissolve in pretty swirls of colors. Once in, the group was greeted by the owner, who pushed them through the throng into a table to the side of the room, warning them if they misbehaved or were disrespectful to any offworld customs, no matter how odd, they would be barred from the club and not to expect any help from the doormen; Spirean-offworld fights were not regulated in the least, as the house was considered offworld territory. Spirean to Spirean fights were simply a source of amusement or ignored.

The servants returned with a dizzying array of alcohols and the guard imbibed, eagerly watching the people caper insanely to the music, which at first almost overwhelmed them with waves of sound. They tried to look like it wasn’t the first time they’d heard the music and soon were trying to sway with the beat or tap toes in time, albeit somewhat oddly, since they’d never really heard anything but Spirean music before.

In stark contrast, Tarja visibly relaxed - her face lit up as the deep rolling bass and strong voices floated around them; her body started to unconsciously rock with the beat; Djanis asked her about the music and she explained how it was amplified; her face grew lively, firm and keen as Djanis got her talk about what Earth people did on nights out; Iwami, upon hearing they had liquor, music and dancing in places called night clubs, discos and concerts now smiled at her, thinking she was growing on him; maybe she’d eye him up as a kura-mei partner later, once she got enough liquid courage in her. However, none of the crew tried to dance with her, all gaping like tourists and stunned at the variety of offworlder shapes, sizes, dress, and behaviors they never got to see close up and in real life. They watched the wildly dressed musicians perform the music, an inexplicable combination of instruments and music styles that all mixed in a delightful roar of sexy, loud sound with an irresistible beat made for dancing.

Suddenly Tarja just couldn’t take it anymore and jumping the railing , she fled to the dance floor. She slid in on a run and began moving like she’d been born to the beat thundering in everyone’s ears; the crowd had begun to jump up and down en masse at the thick fat beat pounding in their ears like waves and Tarja was in the middle of it, excitedly jumping in time, pumping her fist up and down in the circus of sweating, head banging dancers.

The music was powerful, raw and outright obscene to the shocked Spireans; they visibly jumped at the growls and screams of the vocalist and even more shocked, saw their guardmate cheering the insanity of the musicians on like everyone else; the neat gi and obi were soon ripped off, the light under-gi tied high under the breasts, exposing a well built torso and her hair cascaded down loose as the hair tie worked free, until she no longer was a guard, just another offworlder girl on an off duty night.

Ilgar Narsen, a half breed who worked the main bar drifted over and leaned on the railing and grinned at Sanjina and greeted her in the desert tongue of the Eid; he was half desert bred and they had the same silver hair and tall rider’s bodies; he was an exotically glamorous sight to the guard mates, with loose offworld clothing screened with holographic designs that changed color when he moved, a plethora of personal adornment, a row of studs and hoops dangling from one ear, a mess of strings, chains and bracelets on a wrist and an offworld hand weapon strapped to his thigh in a holster; a glimpse of a heavily tattooed shoulder added to the tribal look, but the accented voice was pure Spirean city punk: “Hey, sister. I have rakesh stowed in the back if you want a taste of home. Who’s the noob? “ jerking his head at Tarja , her head now thrashing as her hips began to unabashedly grind in a rhythm that was just plain outright sexy; ”Hey,brother mine! She’s Tarja, she’s the weapon of Lord Seymour on loan to us.” “Nice. She dances pretty good – she got a mate?” “You call that dancing? Ilgar, you’re man among men to even try that once, much less every night in this hole!” “Who’s talking me finest bed down to a dirty little hole now? I should throw you on the red list for that, you sauce! Now, let me show you some REAL dancing, not those wafting wiggles your prancey boy mates call steps! At least she’s getting the idea! Let’s see what’s she’s got beneath the blouse!” With that, he grinned at Sanjina and leapt over the railing, then began to smoothly bob and weave through the crowd to Tarja.

Tarja looked over at him as he cleared a space on the floor and was instantly transfixed, then she could be seen squealing with glee and clapping her hands at the fantastic rhythms and moves Ilgar was performing with breakneck speed; she recognized street dancing when she saw it, having spent much of her time hanging with other kids on the military bases back home; there wasn’t much to do for free, and so everyone danced; freestyle, hip hop, disco, jazz, ballet, belly, acrobatics set to thumping rap or RandB were all thrown into a bizarre mix in the odd hangar corners and dark clubs of her former life. Again her body rhythm shifted in movement, which Ilgar caught out of the corner of his eye; he started a simple series of moves, which she imitated, ending with a spin; then somehow, something magic started to happen on the floor between them and they began a wild dance, exploring each other with a vocabulary of movement that became a visual delight to the observers.

She was on fire, yet totally confident, underlaid with a questing voracious tension that spoke of a hunter and not prey; Ilgar was catching fire himself, and brought out his best moves, doing breaks locks and pops freezing in several stylish and erotic poses with great verve as Tarja counterbalanced him with her world’s versions of street moves, mixed with whatever else she could think of.

The lights changed color and so did the music; a woman’s sultry voice now competed with a yelping , screaming instrument of wire and wood, underlaid with a raucous, raunchy beat. Ilgar and Tarja began a new dance together, now that they had translated each other’s physical vocabulary and started to play in earnest; at that point Iwami dropped his cup, after gazing in a fascinated spasm of lust at the shy little eagle turned bold sexy dance partner, as the couple now swung into their version of a insanely provocative, sexy kura-mei.

And Tidus was still as an assassin…or… perhaps the hunted as he was hit full in the face with a glimpse into Tarja’s mind, or as Ilgar had so delicately put it, what was really beneath the blouse.

It was like when he first saw her moving in rondori, totally unconscious of the way her soul expressed itself through movement;   he saw a totally raw sexuality pouring from her as she moved to the music; it was a far cry from the stumbling country bumpkin dance at the Inn of a 1,000 doors. He found the dance between the pair wildly exciting; all the fierce untamed passion hidden underneath her warrior’s face now visible to everyone made it doubly, unbearably so; and how he so wanted that sexuality to pour over him, _into_ him until he drowned in it; his inebriated mind hazed into a self-absorbed fantasy of secretly taking his pleasure with her, as the music ground into his ears, vibrating with the same intense beat his body throbbed to; he imagined himself in Ilgar’s place, running a strand of Tarja’s hair through his fingers and smiling wickedly at him, raising it to his nose, sniffing the sweet scent appreciatively in a deliberate taunt; it was agony to see Ilgar grinding his hips into her well-made backside rocking to the floor as the wood and wire yelped, thrashed and screamed in a perfect reflection of the spasms of ecstasy they performed, sinking into their own bizarre kura-mei in front of the whole house.

The cold fluid of an overturned cup ran down Tidus’ leg, leaving a stain seeping through the fabric of his pants as he was rudely brought back to reality. _Holy Djevon! Where did all this passion come from?_ Sighing in exasperation at Iwami for the spilled drink, he shifted his weight and hoped no one would notice the wet spot. Jingo excitedly pounded his shoulder, almost yelling in his ear: “Ehhh! Hey! I was right! I finally figured the little eagle out! This is what earth people do to get ready for sex! We come here first next time, yes?” As the assault of noise finally stopped, he quizzically commented: “You know, I’ve never seen a kura-mei done with clothes on!” , at which they all laughed, relieved their little guard mate had finally found some release for herself.

Sanjina thoughtfully looked at Tidus and commented,” You know, maybe she doesn’t feel like she is attractive when compared to women here, so she plays the boy.” Other voices agreed, and wondered why, since she was by their standards a beauty, albeit an exotic one; another commented “Expertise with a sword can make any man feel nervous. But it’s always the ones in your own house that get overlooked for love, until it’s too late, you know? ” “Oh yes. Familiarity breeds contempt!” “I think she’s just afraid to relax, because she feels she might offend us!” “She’s certainly not attracted to women, I think you’re right. Maybe we should ask her about Earth sex and tell us what they do! It’s not like we’re going to be offended here- she’s been naked with us, in the bath and on the field. It can’t be THAT different for them. Tidus, will you talk with her?” “Of course I will, you’re my lions of the field! She is part of our guard. But what shall I say if she names one of us for her lover? Who wishes to volunteer?” Then dryly: “Or be excused?” _…Everybody keep their mouth shut, she’ s mine, mine, MINE._

At that they laughed, and various voices chimed in to tell him: “Oh, we’ve all tried! I know she likes me! She said if she were from here, she’d think herself lucky to be paired with a fighter like me!” “ And me! She called me handsome and touched my arm!” “Yeah, but did she ever kiss your bearded face, you monkey? She kissed me for helping her once!” “She always rubs my back and holds me afterwards until I fall asleep!” Sanjina offered in defense; but everyone’s story rang the same – she was affectionate, kind, loving, but never sexually intimate.

Iwami rolled eyes and spoke: “Djevon’s balls, listen to us! She tells us all we’re fine warriors but she’s never laid with any of us, I bet! Anyone get basted by the little eagle? HAH! I knew it! No one!” “I know the answer now! Her kind doesn’t partner with her workmates! Workmates and lovemates are kept separate!”

Djanis slammed his cup down and overrode everyone, thundering in his smooth deep bass voice: “NO! You’re wrong! – She’s no barbarian, you idiots!”

Seeing everyone’s interest, he continued with a surprising insight: “She is waiting for the leader to lead the way! She’s waiting for YOU, Tidus – you’re the 1st in everything on our team… so…She is waiting for you to notice her – maybe you missed her invitation! She thinks she should offer herself to YOU first, since you’re the leader! In short, she ‘s just being…polite!”

“Eee! Do You HAVE to be right all the time, Djanis-san???!!!” “Tidus, tell her it’s not the same here! Talk to her! -We’re all afraid she’ll crack from the strain if she doesn’t relax!”

Laughing at his clever crew, Tidus agreed and restored to his bastard mood , he swept out on the dance floor and grabbed his guard mate by the collar and jerked his head towards the door when she looked over her shoulder. He laughed, threw an arm over her shoulder, secretly delighted she was still his; in a fit of outright bastardness he evilly looked back at the deprived Ilgar left standing partner-less and grinning, mouthed the word: MINE, as the guard tumbled out the door into the night.


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning was more of an afternoon, as most of the guard slept in past dawn; they met at the guardhouse gate to buy supplies in the market; Tidus took the opportunity to get Tarja alone and the guard grinned in appreciation as he left with her, after handing over his letter of marque from the imperial treasury to the store owners. She thought she was in trouble, as separation from the group usually meant that, but he rapidly soothed her fear and cleverly, craftily asked her to tell him about Earth: – they were all surprised and pleased at her dancing to the off world music; they felt badly they didn’t include her needs in their plans at first. They had assumed she was just like them, since she so much looked like them. “Most aliens are well, really different! You blend in so well, everyone thinks you are one of us!” “Well, I need to learn too, Tidus-san – It was a lot of fun last night and I think we have a lot in common – I just never saw people enjoying sex so openly, except in very private settings. That’s a difference which I’ll simply have to get used to. ”

Tidus was a bit puzzled, then realized she really was a nun – her people must keep the act hidden, it must be a taboo or religious preference. Like no sex before pairing off and having children. No wonder she had exploded on the floor last night – she must be a seething pot about to boil over after being exposed to the Spirean pursuit of pleasure! He decided to expound on Spirean culture to help her: “Ah, then you took it well – we Spireans think if we share more, we know each other better. We are usually mates for life in the guard and you have to trust the person standing at your shoulder or at your back absolutely, with no hesitation in the heart or mind. They want to trust you and you should trust them, even with your deepest face you keep hidden from the rest of the world. It won’t be laughed at here, Tarja, trust us..trust..me. “

She absorbed what he was saying slowly, mentally chewing his lesson over; to fill the silence, he began to tell her of the peccadillos of his crew: “Look, everyone’s a circus act of some kind inside – Jingo will get drunk and wear women’s clothes; Djanis , yes THAT Djanis, writes poetry when he gets his heart broken; Sanjina will lay with any offworlder given half a chance and will not give a local consort the time of day; Akana rarely has sex, but gets hard at the mention of a battle, so he tells himself battle stories and even made sure his courtesans wear armor!”

“What do you like, Tidus-san?” … _Besides golden girls named Topaz? Sigh… Why ask - I don’t even compare._

Silently he stayed blank. He wasn’t about to give his secret desire away…yet. Interested, he remembered Djanis’ comment and decided to see if it were true, so he blandly commented: ”Hmmm..I take captain’s privilege…today.” Reading her reaction, as any good temple trained monk or consort would do, he noted the change in her face – it was like a polite mask, faintly smiling, but the eyes grew clouded with disappointment.   Djanis was right; she had just tried to politely introduce the subject so she could offer herself to him first as the leader of the pack and he hadn’t caught it.

He decided to be direct this once; after all he was the leader of this crazy, unique team and secretly, he was selfishly very happy she had respected him so much that she offered herself first to him. “Tarja-san, I think maybe you’ve forgotten to know what it feels like to be a woman….We’ve put you through a great deal, and have had high expectations of you; it’d be wrong for us…for me, to ignore your needs as a woman as well as a warrior. I’d like to…that is…if you aren’t ashamed to let me…I think I can help here. After all, I was temple trained for a consort. How about I give you some sutras? Come on, can you consider at least one _?”…Please say yes, Tarja, I’m dying to get you alone, even if it is under false pretenses._

Shyly, she looked down, then looked up again and quietly agreed: “I’d be honored. I remember when you taught me how to behave like a lady and got me to wear a high court kimono at O-Bon; it seems so long ago, doesn’t it? Now I do all those things without even thinking about them, Tidus-san. Just…be patient with me, please?”

Tidus almost started as the jewel of memory he kept hidden away fell from her lips; the memory of dressing her as a lady for the first time and seeing the first glance of the woman within the warrior was an extremely erotic experience for him, despite his jaded past; it wasn’t until he was drifting to sleep that night he recalled the soft accented voice asking him “What is your Eden? How can a woman take you there, please you _?”…she was the only one I ever knew who asked me that…she’s never had a lover here…we’ve never been lovers, unless you count that kiss she gave you in the bath house…despite being a nun, she cut through all the custom and protocol in one sentence; maybe Washiita’s people have their own path to Eden, Djevon…_

The lessons were started that afternoon; he gently spoke to her about what a kura-mei was to Spireans and ever so gently probed into her past to see what her love life was like. He soon found out she had experience, been sexually active at the normal age, didn’t do women, except to please a partner, danced every weekend on ‘dates’, never had a lover last more than 6 months, and simply stopped getting involved with co-workers over an incident involving a screaming ex-wife dragging two children in, throwing custody papers and sexual harassment charges all over the place. Another thing was curious to observe: When he compared the way she acted while dancing to her normal everyday demeanor, it was glaringly apparent now that she lacked the unconscious pride of the body that every Spirean had, which was puzzling, because he knew she was considered quite a beauty in the capital, and it wasn’t always about the eyes; he thought he knew where the problem laid: She was in a different environment, she was intimidated because she was different; she just needed to be fully aware she was beautiful and desired in this world as well as her own. He warned himself to be careful with the spiritual aspect, and reassure her she was doing what pleased Djevon; it wasn’t just about learning to read a partner’s non-verbal vocabulary or pure body mechanics. “You need to be comfortable in your own skin, and not only comfortable, you need to be damn proud of your skin, Tarja; so…sit in front of the mirror; and tell me what you see.”

She sat in silence for a while and hesitant words came out; she tried to tell him she was a fairly ordinary specimen of womanhood on earth, not the most beautiful or sexiest available, just more fit for obvious reasons; but shamefacedly admitted she knew she was very raw and plain compared to Spirean women; she’d seen the way men admired the courtesans and cooed over their dainty cherry blossom beauty, but simply stared at her, no matter polite she was or how carefully she wrapped her kimono.

_Djevon, I thank you for making Earth men idiots and blind! …Now, Let me tell you my beauty exactly what a toothsome piece of jade you really are:_

He laughed, the ripple of silky chimes reminding her of O-Bon: ”You’ve forgotten the lesson of the effect you have on men; allow me to refresh your memory, lady.”

“Let me tell you what men see _:_ Imagine a man seeing such a lovely woman he grows faint with desire from the least thing about her…instead of uttering his awe of the jewel of Djevon sparkling in front of him he grows silent in outright adoration, fearing she will fade as a dream if he speaks… ”

Gently ruthless, he went on, telling her no lie, secretly opening the wealth of memory in his mind of the stolen glimpses of the long limbs, the skin that looked so soft alluring and entirely touchable, lickable with its creamy suntanned satin; how it would receive a 1000 kisses from a man’s mouth, from the ever so pretty shoulder peeping from a silk kimono to the back of her neck to the inside of a creamy thigh, to the trembling rose mouth. His tongue now loosened, he spilled the secret observations of her beautiful body, pretending it was a lesson, keeping his voice pitched evenly , exactly as his ancient teacher had done so long ago, just like this, sitting him in front of a mirror and quietly telling him all the ways he was beautiful, erasing his shame word by word until he cried.

He ended with: “It’s far different than what you told me, yes? I see the very pleasure of Djevon pour over you when you dance or use a sword; the task we must accomplish is to feel the same way when you are in a kura-mei…that’s all!”

“Now…you need to immerse yourself in pleasure; I think you simply need to get used to the idea that it is your right to feel pleasure; and there are so many things to take pleasure in, Tarja. I think you will gain confidence easily if you do. “

“What do you sleep in? A yukata? No?” Tarja shyly explained she slept in loose temple pants and tunic, hacking sleeves and legs off for a cool summer set of pajamas. The lesson of sensuousness began with touch, as he well knew, so it was with admirable composure he was able to tell her: “Tonight you sleep in your skin and nothing more. I’ll have some things brought in for your bed. Then you tell me how it felt next lesson and build on that.”

A glimpse of the confident Tidus the consort she knew finally surfaced as he caught her eyes in the mirror as they got up to leave the room. _Oh no…what are you up to now, consort mine?_

That night, she was given the surprise of silk sheets on her bed. A note in Tidus’s elegant hand laid on her desk with with a packet of herbs. She steeped them as instructed in her small teapot by the fireplace and drank them at the hour noted, then easily and peacefully fell asleep after a long day of guard’s work and sutras; the silk felt heavenly against her bare skin and she sleepily agreed now with Tidus, perhaps _s_ he had forgotten what it feels like to be a woman.

Around the 11th hour of night, a shadow fell across her bed, but she did not wake, as the gentle herbs kept her wrapped in the arms of Morpheus; the body stretched and rubbed itself lazily against the soft fabric , now released from the conscious mind’s enforced boundaries and the shadow briefly smiled at the voluptuous turns, well pleased at the sight of a very private pet enjoying his gift. She didn’t even murmur as his weight settled on the bed, sitting cross legged to observe her, and idly run an appreciative hand over a curve of a shoulder, trail a finger down the taut drum of her waist or gently run a silky strand of hair through fingers, before leaning down to start a trail of kisses in all the places he had told her of, branding her as his own.

Tidus was a clever teacher; he was taught by the best in the temple, so his sutras reached Tarja’s psyche easily and she started to bloom. He did not use the herbs after that 1st night, thinking he’d not be able to maintain control of himself; he’d given into the temptation of letting his fingers brush between her thighs picking up the moist stickiness and he’d absentmindedly sucked the moisture off a finger on the way back to his room, intrigued and curious about what she tasted of; the light taste with a touch of sweet was a far cry from Spirean women. But the memory of the taste had stayed with him until morning and nearly had driven him insane with the desire to bury his head between her legs like a woman the day after. He scolded himself for nearly breaking the sacred teacher-trainee bond, but Djevon just laughed at him every time he turned his back to the sculpture in the courtyard: _Taming her to your own hand, are we?_

Soon the lessons were almost daily, the fine spring days melting into summer as he patiently coached her in the mechanics of the body andtried to immerse her in the spiritual aspects of Djevon’s pleasure that had saved his life so many years ago.

There were delightful moments between them; he found himself having an immense amount of fun getting her to open up and enjoy life; she had been so focused on surviving she had pushed everything else about her in the background and now he, and the team saw her true personality emerge; she grew on him, and soon he saw glimpses of a warm vibrant woman, with a gift of total attention; she got his sense of humor; she was sensitive to his spiritual devotion to Djevon, never interrupting any mediation; she appreciated his taste in things, which was clean, subtle and the best. She began to eagerly look for his face every day and he just as eagerly anticipated her footsteps running through the temple courtyard to him for the next sutra.

She was frequently kind now, and he started to get a sense of how strong her spirit was; he didn’t realize how much demand they had put on her in asking her to acclimate to their world, their way of life as a guard and a weapon. He wondered what untapped depths lay in her as she endlessly practiced her sword katas, her sutras out loud with him, practicing dance with Narsen in the dojo on her off duty hours; the ceaseless soft cry of again! was her mantra as she went on with relentless gentle persistence. He began to respect her efforts and soon grew proud of her as she started to show flashes of grace; her whole set of her body began to move with the same confidence in the street, in the inns, through the court hallways with the same level of confidence she had when she had a sword in her hand or when dancing with her trainer Narsen.

So, Tidus was delighted when he could walk her down tailor’s row one day and see heads turn in appreciative silence as he escorted her down the sidewalk, one hand gently laid on his arm, calmly observing the exquisite samples of the tailor’s efforts displayed in windows; she was dressed in one of Sanjina’s old kimonos, a bit worn, but the color was right and set off her eyes and hair. So it was no surprise when he steered her into his tailor’s shop and teased her into trying on kimonos. The tailor smiled to himself at seeing the handsome bastard again with a lady; he was glad to hear the rumors were true: the shield guard was training a lady in secret. So, he pointed out his best, holding lustrous silks up to her face to find a match to her coloring until Tidus was satisfied. He picked one with a strong graphic of wisterias tumbling down the left hip with a subtle thread of grass green in the black under-kimono, a masterpiece of understated taste. The shop displayed a lovely black on black brocade Kimono with a white beaded Obi in a honeycomb design in a corner; Tidus saw her glance at the display and hold still a few seconds longer than usual, remembering the O-Bon. He caught the tailor's glance and indulgent, he gave a quick jerk of head, adding the outfit to the bundle that would be sent later that day, leaving them free to walk about unburdened by purchases. He was glad she remembered her first kimono dressing and hoped for a repeat of the erotic moment to occur soon.

Surprisingly, she asked if his old teacher was still alive; sadly, Tidus found out he had passed on some 2 years ago, but he was able to find his memorial marker on the grounds and spent an hour meditating there one day. He also found out that the ancient had left a master work, an illustrated text of the art of love with his notes and beautiful penned illustrations. To help with the sutras, Tidus borrowed the book out of the library; in a hidden alcove with a stone seat and a few smuggled pillows, he relaxed with Tarja in the warm afternoons, pulling her to sit between his legs, so he could look over her shoulder and look at the book, which he bade her to read aloud today: " …The eighteenth manner is called ' love's fusion'. While the woman is lying on her right side, extend yourself on your left side; your left leg remains extended, and you raise your right one till it is up to her flank, when you lay her upper leg upon your side. Thus the uppermost leg serves the woman as a support for her back. Afterhaving introduced your member you move as you please, and she responds to your action as she pleases…."[i] Blushing furiously at her faltering voice she stops again. Tidus, shaking with silent laughter, firmly instructs: "Go on."

"…Next, bring your face forward until upon hers, whispering blandishments and begin to kiss her to bring pleasure. The kiss is assumed to be an integral part of congress. The best kiss is the one impressed with gentle pressure and insertion of the tongue into mouth with swift swallow's movements, darting about the cavity to produce the sweet honey of saliva. This maneuver will give the woman a trembling sensation, which will run all through her body, and is more intoxicating than wine drink to excess[ii]…Oh. My. You mean...I can't believe…you can actually get in this position?" Cheeks rosy with secret curiosity, Tarja turned the book sideways, trying to figure out the graphic illustration the instructor had delicately drawn and tinted with rich watercolors.

"You think that's hard? Read the 25th position – the seducer; I had to do that one night during a pleasure-party to get an erotic evening started for guests. Djevon’s balls, that was the hardest career night I ever had!"

Tarja went silent as the illustration of the 25th position came into view, the male illustrated with a blonde head which made Tidus laugh out loud; he saw under her coolly indifferent exterior, she was attracted to him, but despite her claim to experience, she more innocent of sexual relations than she cared to admit; he decided her culture on Earth must have had many taboos; it seemed she knew of cultures that had pleasure, but must not have grown up in one. However, she was unbending by degrees every day, becoming a warm, charming personality with a beautiful uncluttered openness to learning the art of love; it was a far cry from when she first came here and he knew he’d have to launch her on her solo flight soon.

His confidence took another bound when he realized there was something more he could teach his little eagle today. _This is going to be fun_ , he thought, as he reached around her and turned the page and began to read aloud the next sutra on positions; his voice dropped into a silky contralto, and to tease her further, he spoke in the first degree of intimacy, as if he and she were actually going through the steps, substituting 'I' and 'you' for the more formal distant tense of 'man' and 'woman'. He was gratified when she tried to be still, but gave in to the images his voice was creating in her mind and slowly relaxed against him, her head finally lying back against his shoulder. His voice lowered into a rasp, then the book slid off her lap as she lost herself in a fantasy of what he was whispering in her ear. Elated, he knew she’d climaxed by the sudden heat in her face and the effort of being too still.

The thump of the book on the floor jarred her back into reality with a flooding sense of embarrassment; she looked down at the obvious signs of excitement her body had betrayed her with, and sat upright, intending to bolt before he was put off by her apparent arousal. Tidus calmly hooked a leg and pulled her back down with a solid thump against him, amused at the pretty girl aroused so highly by his voice – which was exactly what he'd hoped for. Confident, he pulled her face around to his, and wickedly asked: "Lesson's not over yet - How do you feel right now?" "Only you would have the nerve to tease me, and in a temple at that! I'm so…so..." "Ashamed? Embarrassed?" He cut in; "This is a way to show love to the divine, Tarja. Why shouldn't I do it in a temple? I have no shame in loving Djevon through you, why should you be ashamed that you experienced a divine pleasure?" His eyes of cobalt blue softened as he saw his lesson hit home as he finished with: "I see there is something I can teach you here. I hope one day, you too, will feel so much love in you for Djevon, that you can show it to the whole world and not be ashamed." _I did. And it's what kept me from sinking into despair and killing myself through shame. I refused to be ashamed at being a consort; the purity of love kept me alive. One day, you'll understand._

She began to change further; everyone seemed to start to view her as a potential partner; men looked at her in street and some even followed her; love-poetry began to be thrown at her in the bars and inns the guard mates played in; some afternoons, the littlest thing about her teacher became erotic: The brush of his hair as it swung forward when his head bent to move a leg or turn her torso in the correct position when she practiced the katas, or sequences of positions with Zander or a monk; a glimpse of high pectorals filling out his Gi, golden brown skin begging to be touched; the way his voice hung onto a certain word to subtly emphasize a point. Puzzled at the shift in her viewpoint, she found herself sitting in front of the giant Djevon after the sutras, trying to center herself.

A monk sat by her and before she knew it, she was drawn into conversation about the subject that plagued her mind: She felt everything around her was slowly becoming fraught with eroticism and she was afraid she was losing herself. Gentle-voiced, the monk peacefully disagreed: "No! That is a tremendous step to becoming closer to Djevon! To see the potential of love in everything shows me you are aware that the god is present everywhere around you; I myself was an unbeliever, a sculptor who saw his own work was soulless one day and began to search for a way to bring Djevon into my work; it is here that I learned everything I know about love, and now like a mad man I worship the divine in everything – the rocks, the trees, even the wind that blows. As for losing yourself, be not afraid; is it the really a sign that you are becoming closer to what you truly are; the old habits you no longer need will be discarded and one day you will see that Djevon is no longer in your heart, but you have been living in the heart of Djevon all along."

Comforted, Tarja began to relax and go with the flow instead of fighting the lessons in love Tidus was teaching her; and soon she saw the secret sutra of how much Tidus wanted to keep her in his world and how much effort he was putting into teaching her everything he knew about love.

 

 

 

 

[i] The Perfumed Garden of Sensual Delight, Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad al-Nafzawi

[ii] The Perfumed Garden of Sensual Delight, Muḥammad ibn Muḥammad al-Nafzawi


	16. Chapter 16

They went to the Old Rose Inn, a fairly classy place by temple bar standards, which meant the guard never frequented the place; neither did the members of the court, for that matter. They liked their drink strong and their pleasures raw when in temple bar, a welcome change from the refinements of court. Tidus had asked Zander for his help, knowing at least he was a familiar face to Tarja and she wouldn’t get too nervous with a partner she had practiced with before. He gave the excuse to Tarja that he was the teacher and it might be better with a professional first.

Of course, Zander knew better; Tidus could at least tolerate someone who looked like him and laid his bet on the thought that Tidus would be sitting there imagining it was himself who would be introducing the little eagle to the pleasure of kura-mei; he planned to upset the carefully crafted evening in a small way that would tip the balance in Djevon’s favor; _At least I don’t go against Djevon when he commands me! No good ever came of denying the god his pleasure,_ Zander thought as he watched Tidus pour a draught down Tarja’s throat; he noted the too careful movements of the man’s hands and the way his thigh stayed in contact with Tarja, subtly rubbing against the silk of the gorgeous kimono she was dressed in tonight.

He got up from his seat and strolled through the courtyard with its private flets, pretending surprise when he saw her and her captain; he was invited in, and soon the three of them were in a private world of laughter, flirtatiousness and innuendo fueled by strong drink; eventually a group of musicians came in and sat in the courtyard, then commenced to play sensual slow music, at which Zander began to dance to on the low table in front of Tarja to excite her; he did not use his normal graceful set of androgynous temple bar moves, but took a page from the sutras he had worked on with the two and subtly struck erotic pose after pose interspersed with the strong undulations and hip beats any desert bred nomad knew from birth up; the effect it had was startling –Tarja looked up, her face flooded with a blush, but the eyes held a very interested look like a feline gazing at a bird; then she deliberately placed a hand on his foot, waited until he looked down, and made him, the experienced consort , rise in a hard, throbbing excitement as she leaned forward and kissed the top of his strongly arched foot, running a tongue around the ankle bone. _Ah, innocence…The greatest aphrodisiac,_ he thought.

He knelt and she lightly hopped on the low table to join him, and soon they were on their way to undressing in Tarja’s first kura-mei. Tidus sat absolutely still, not wanting to disturb her concentration, but still devouring her with his eyes; He only moved to hand Zander another thimble of Aki, which was poured down Tarja’s throat; Zander threw himself into the task of the first kura-mei act with enthusiasm; he buried his head between her legs and gently used his mouth to bring her to the first heaven of pleasure; he turned her to him and gently kissed her into a kneeling position, keeping her attention on him as he made sure she was well warmed and willing for entry, drifting in and out of consciousness in an alcoholic haze before he calmly reached down, pinched the candle flame out and looked over to Tidus, raising his eyebrows, then silently mouthed _come_ , faintly smiling in invitation. Tidus’ jaw dropped, and Zander felt the man’s self-control melt in the rising heat within the flet. Silently triumphant, Zander slipped behind Tarja and stepped off the table, then gently pulled Tidus’ gi off and pushed him to Tarja. _Don’t deny Djevon_ he wickedly whispered in Tidus’ ear before sitting down and taking a well-deserved thimble of Aki, selfishly toasting himself before settling in to voyeuristically enjoy the summer’s hottest show of passion.

The morning salutation and practice was a delight that summer morning; for once, Tidus felt his team had come together; some invisible tension had eased, leaving them all able to move as one with no outside thoughts to bar their concentration. He’d never risen feeling so good, so strong. He secretly glowed every time he saw his Tarja in his sight, a faint shimmer of wicked joy reflected in her face at times. The rest of the guard more felt than knew a shift in the dynamics of the team was occurring. It was subtle, but refreshing and they were happy that their leader had listened to their needs; they now moved as one, thought as one. They thought themselves invincible.

But Tarja knew better. They had no idea what war was, they’d never seen a war with weapons of mass destruction yet. She came from a world of weapons made of machines, explosives, and bio-chemicals. She suddenly felt responsible for them, she had begun to get attached to each of them in curious ways she had never experienced with her classmates on Earth.

After last night’s wild love play and her first kura-mei, she realized the people here had a different, deeper grasp of love and what it means than what she knew back on Earth in many ways. The revelation of being able to totally expose yourself to someone without fear was the lesson she’d learned last night. It didn’t stop her from wishing Tidus had been the one performing with her, in fact she had simply closed her eyes and imagined it was his flesh she had kissed. Once it was done, she was not that terribly embarrassed he had watched her, it was tolerable and was glad he was happy with her.

She decided she would give them a weapon, a better weapon than what they had; she saw them with new eyes and wanted to protect her mates with everything she had. She made her way down to the armory after practice to find a metal smith, her blade slung over shoulder and sketchbook in her hands. They grunted at her idea, then shook their heads. She drew back affronted, hotly arguing the idea had been in use hundreds of years on Earth already, it was simple, what was wrong with trying once? The assistant smith grinned , suddenly blurting out it wasn’t the idea, it was the heat! He was ready to hammer all day, tapping his hammer playfully against his anvil, hoping she’d get the inference he would be happy to service her in that way; but commented steel like that became harder to heat the more it was folded, and their furnace couldn’t get hot enough. “Go to Harrissiman’s. They make the metal, and the steel, too. They have hotter fires, they forge what you want, missy!”

Harrissiman’s foundry was near temple bar and she went there as soon as she was free. He listened to her idea, looked her sketches over for a full 10 minutes without speaking, then sighed and looked over at her: “It can be done. But I warn you, it will take time and at least two smiths to take turns. The annealing process will require hinoki wood, an extra expense. Can I send messengers with questions? Good. I will need your gold and signature in the office.” The smile like a rising sun was his reward and pleased with the commission of an idea he had played with but never had the money or connections to pursue, he vowed the bastard Tidus Tanaka noh Ishii would remember his name very well soon. He saw an imperial contract in his future.

The guard of the shield of the son of heaven became bemused at the number of messengers Tarja began to receive from the city; they nudged each other and giggled that Zander must have finally fallen in love, or her kura-mei stirred more than few revelers to declare themselves; she bore their ribbing with a saintly smile, then continued to quickly disappear after her duties were over, running on light feet towards the south section of the city in the early evenings.

Tidus found himself on the verge of seeking her out more than once; the glimpses of memory would cauterize his mind in the hot summer nights; he began to envy Zander, then grow jealous as he found her place at the table of their guard room empty, her room empty after duty until the tenth hour of the evening; in a fit of bastardness he pulled her aside one day after giving the rest of the guard leave and made her practice with him one on one through every exercise he could think of, harshly critical of any fault and he was not gentle.

Exhausted, she limped off the mat drenched in sweat, with a fresh bruise on her arm; puzzled at his mercurial shift in mood and frowning displeasure, she withdrew into herself, instead of opening up like he had anticipated. She shied away from him in the bath house, sitting on the opposite side of the bath in silence until she nearly drowned from falling asleep in the hot water. She managed to pull herself out and let the attendant help her onto a massage table to help soothe her aching muscles and tendons. Tidus became ashamed at his evil mood when the attendant gave him a look that clearly said ‘bastard’ as he came out from the little room to mix more oil with a painkiller and stopped him, taking the oil from his hands; then he went in the massage room to undo the pain he caused.

Tarja was too tired to notice the change in the hands at first; she could only lie there sighing as the knots and pains left her body bit by bit; then the hands took a different path, gently kneading down the spine, then slowly spreading across the flare of her hips in a subtle caress; she felt the hard calluses on the right hand and realized they were the hands of a swordsman…her captain. The hands continued down on her backside, pausing in a slow deliberate caress, shattering any illusions she might have had that he was simply soothing her hurts with a massage. Falling through the table and into an abyss, she drowned in sensuality, then in shame at the knowledge he was fondling her like he owned her; she had imagined his caresses happening almost every day, but not like this, clearly a moment of play to satisfy his curiosity. But it felt oh, so…good; her body was so tired of fighting everything; but her mind galled; she was slowly suffocating, she was losing the fight to keep her human individuality and it began to slowly build into a rankling mix of fear and anger. She laid there confused, her body singing with delight as her mind squirmed and shied away from alien thoughts.

He continued his exploration down, gently pulling her thighs apart, skillfully pushing at pressure points in her leg and gluteal muscles, loosening them until she melted into the table, now wide open to his heated hands. Two fingers slid into her slow as honey, and began to gently work in small circles. The feeling of being filled was exquisite, and she felt the fingers ever so gently change rhythm when her body indicated it accepted the pleasure with a slow pour of warmth from deep inside. The other hand slowly slid back up her spine and tangled in her hair, then firmly pulled her head up as he thrust his fingers back in as if he were behind her thrusting in up to the very skin of his smooth belly. He slowly drew his dripping fingers out and thrust in again firmly. He continued, slowly exploring her with a thoroughness that left her breathless; he laid his head on the swell of her hips, eyes closed as he thrust in again and again, fascinated by the sheer feel of the warm sweet trap that his fingers were dipping into. He couldn’t speak, his throat was tight with an unexpected deep lust for her; throwing any shreds of caution away, he loosened his grip on her hair and let the hand trail down as he stepped around to the end of the table, his fingers still in her; he paused to admire her and as he bent to kiss her ankle and lick it just like he saw her do in the kura-mei, her other foot caught him squarely in the chest, throwing him back.

Tarja simply bolted, running from the room through the deserted bath house; she sprinted for all she was worth and had the door open a full foot before it was slammed shut with a bang.

Furious, she slapped his face; he grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back and silkily hissed: “Yes! That’s it! Slap me again, if you dare! Anything is better than your damned indifference!” “You bas-“ he cut her off with his own hand delivering a light slap and a quick savage kiss, rewarded with a bite to his lower lip; he forcibly picked her up, grimly carrying her to the bath, where he simply dropped her in and walked away disgusted.

She got out, simply launched herself at him and they went down in a tumble, a mess of thrashing arms and legs, cursing and screeching like two eagles fighting over a kill; oil crocks shattered, the towel rack was overturned, and a brush somehow made its way to the side of Tidus’ head. The bath house attendant now peering around the door blanched, shut the door, locked it and ran to get the sign that said closed for repair. There was no way he was going to interfere with the royal temper, especially that of the bastard who was taming a disobedient guard.

His disgust forgotten, Tidus found himself wildly excited by the fight; he knew he had broken through her indifference and found that searing raw sexuality he was hungry for; it took all his strength and a nasty tong move to quell her, pinning her to the floor. Exasperated, exhilarated and outright hot for her, he lost his control and simply let his heart run away with his tongue:

“Why?! Why do you always run to _him_ , and not me? Was he that good, what has he done to earn your trust that I haven’t done, and more? If I catch you running down to the Old Rose again, I’ll kick you to the street and to Djevon’s bright blue heaven, woman!”

“You can’t! “

“Who says?!” Who says it’s not that easy to walk away from you! I’m the leader here, not you! Yeah, you’re soooo talented, but you have to be part of the team, Tarja! We can’t trust a wall! We have nothing to hide, we’re real men and women here with real needs! There’s no room for consorts or wives in a battle! You have to choose one of us! Why not the ones who risk their lives with you? Why not me? - Just who the hell do you think you were with that night, a half assed excuse of a consort or a real man?”

Now she knew; in a way, she’d always known it wasn’t Zander’s hands on her all the time in the wild kura-mei; the hands that had grasped her hips to drive a white hot spike into her core that night were the ones that had just taken possession of her.

Tidus and Tarja stared at each other for a full minute in silence as Djevon held them in his hands; Tidus knew he had won her as the clouded walls in her eyes melted and fell away, leaving nothing but a partner who was looking at him as if the sun rose and set by his command. Now it was time for him to command, but softly, a velvet glove over a steel fist of will: “Come to me. Tonight.” He rolled off her and walked to the locked door; after rattling it, he calmly kicked it open, breaking the flimsy bolt with a satisfying crunch; royally ignoring the mess of the wood splinters and half-destroyed bath, he let himself out, but not before he paused with a further small command: “I expect the woman, not the warrior. Wear a kimono.”


	17. Chapter 17

Tarja let go of the breath she had been holding with a soft whew and shook her head; _Oh my god, what the hell just happened? This is real, it’s not an idle flirt for him!_ Then panicking: _What if he expects a kura-mei? With him? Man, I want the first time with him alone! I can’t give him what he really needs if I have to do it that way, dammit!_ She thought furiously as she helped the bath attendant set the room to rights somewhat and when inspiration struck, she hurried down the long hall back to the guardroom and breathlessly called for a messenger.

_Just how in the in the hell am I going to get into a kimono by myself?_ She ran to Sanjina for help, who was dressing for the evening in her favorite: a split-top evening kimono; it caught the eye with vivid stylized turquoise flames jumping up from the hem on a black background, with a slit up to the hip emphasized with a coiling dragon breathing flames to showcase a slim leg; the top was cut short, to expose the waist and a sparkling black beaded tie wrapped around to hold it in place. After brushing her silver hair into a wildly spiked arrangement, she added a scandalous turquoise tanto with a carved head of Djevon sticking his tongue out, and turned to her friend in need.

Sanjina was sweetly stubborn, and knowing her captain’s refined high court tastes, decided he needed a kick in his backside to step up to the ring of love play with Tarja; therefore, no dainty cherry blossom kimono, no sweetly innocent shades of pink or wisteria, and no doll-like face paint.   Secretly delighted, Sanjina helped her to dress in another of her split top kimonos, pulling the kimono top off her shoulders and arranging the tie to criss cross below the bust, teasing them with glimpses of tanned shoulders and the gentle swell of breasts above the exposed torso. Sanjina added some of her signature black eyeliner and swept part of the hair up in a warrior’s chop, but made it far sexier with a playful shagginess around the face. She ran Tarja to the dining room, only to find it empty, except for a reply to her message on the sideboard. They were informed their mates had left for the temple bar and they were expected at their usual haunt. “Holy Djevon!” Sanjina exclaimed “Is it your birthday or something, Tarja??” Tarja shook her head but wryly commented: “Well it might be the birth of Tarja the Spirean slut, but hey, if it’s the team’s idea of Eden, I’ll give being a kura-mei queen a try!” Sanjina, astonished, looked at her, her eyes popping, then screeched and simply swarmed over Tarja, kissing her everywhere her lips could reach “I knew it! I knew it! I knew you’d come around once you got to know us! Come on, let’s go!”

The pair brought instant attention in the street, their jekka was followed and when they slowed before the Inn, they had to wait for the doormen to clear a path of the oogling onlookers. They were treated with attention, the owner happily wrapping an arm around each waist as he guided them to the guard’s table. The brotherhood of the shield guard was already fairly inebriated from an hour’s worth of head start; they were having a hell of a good time, watching patrons pass to black around the cask after sharing a cup in a toast. They all piled together laughing, messing the each other’s hair and stumbling towards their table, looking for more of white lightning to send them soaring.

Jingo was the first to spot the pair and he practically screamed; jaws dropped and Tidus could clearly be seen saying “What the bloody baste, who the hell is THAT jewel of Djevon?” Then, recognizing the faces, as a man they all grinned, swelling with a manly pride at their shield mates; Djanis, extremely drunk and leaning heavily on Akana’s shoulder, simply pointed a wavering finger and mouthed MINE at Sanjina, then jealously glanced around the room, hand on hilt.

Sanjina was staring interestedly at Djanis and ignored Tarja’s hiss, so Tarja shrugged and walked forward, the slit in the skirt a revelation; they all stared at her dumbfounded like naughty acolytes caught in the act of gawking at the undulating hips in the vivid coral satin, so she played the bitch, placed her hands on her hips and calmly stated: “NO, Jingo, you can’t wear it tonight! But if you keep your hands out of my closet I promise I’ll even shave your legs the next time you want to wear a kimono.”

She tossed her head and turned to Tidus:

”SO…what does my maniac of a captain want to do first?”

His handsome face broke into a grin and whistled; almost shaking with excitement that she had heeded his command and came to him, Tidus took her by the waist and the hand, leading her to the private room, then she daintily knelt next to him and settled herself on a pillow.   The team practically strutted in pride at finally seeing the pair behave properly as a captain with a lady and then fell over themselves to offer Sanjina their hand in escort; Djanis won out the first round. Then the men made the pair of women toss back three rounds in their old drinking game, insisting they needed to catch up, and soon some semblance of normalcy returned as they realized they were still the same people, doing their usual off duty gathering and were having a good time together.

Courtesans and consorts drifted in and out of the room with their acts, songs and dances; Tarja kept her place by Tidus and was sweetly attentive, refusing to let anyone else pour his drink, laughing when his quick wit flashed, and so forth until his whole bearing relaxed. He became charming and actually placed his hand on hers below the table, which soon turned into a subtle caress on her forearm as he leaned forward to have his cup filled again. He was beginning to get warm, just like the rest of guard mates, who were merrily teasing the acts that came in to get them to engage in a kura-mei with one of them before the night was over.

A tall silver-haired man in loose offworlder clothes entered the room with a small carrying bag and began to set up an offworld device around the room, small boxes then a small pad that lit up with strings of offworld text was placed on table in a corner. The hood was then thrown back to reveal a familiar face: Ilgar Narsen.

The exotic, glamorous draughtsman was well reputed to be able to do it with anyone at any time, so the guard mates all felt a thrill when Tarja rose, bowed to Tidus and walked over to Narsen. he looked like Sanjina’s blood, tall, standing inches above Tidus’ six foot frame; but more subtly muscular, darker bronze skin and dark eyes that contrasted with the silver hair, worn in neat tight braids close to his scalp. He was tattooed, but not like the royals or imperials on Spirea: strong primitive designs covered a shoulder, creeping down a pectoral like a rock in a deep blue-black ink, showing off his well-developed body.

Tidus fought a rising tsunami of jealousy, then relaxed as he remembered the glimpses of offworld dances and exercises the two did in the dojo on off duty hours; he’d forgotten Narsen was her hired trainer. He was rather ashamed of himself, and vowed he would applaud her Earth dancing, no matter how lousy it was.

Tarja said in her mind, _ok, this is it,_ her body beginning to move with a delightful unconscious sexual energy that communicated itself clearly to her mates; it made them finally understand that she was starting an Earth-style kura-mei, just for them!

The sleek coral kimono had been ditched and she stood there in abbreviated undergarments that left little to the imagination, yet covered her enough to leave the observer wondering what jewels lay underneath the cloth; Narsen had a similar garment on, clinging to his hips and backside like it was poured on. Slow lovely offworld music with strings, piano and synth keyboards began to pour through the boxes set around the room and they started their kura-mei.

It was an extraordinary, subtle dance, performed with athletic grace and sensitivity; they played at the game of love with each other, then one or other would express through the dance a distraction of another in the room, slowly reaching out, then being drawn back by the other partner with feigned pain, violence, or loving, possessive gestures; they struck erotic poses, surprised them with aerials, walkovers, handstands on shoulders and counterbalances, seeming to hover above the ground or their partner, but kept moving softly in time with the music, strikingly beautiful with long elegant limbs moving as one. With delight, at least one of their audience recognized the silent story of an intimacy taken without permission, then forgiven as the pair had moved in the erotic pose of a lady astride a man’s lap in reverse, then looking back in surprise at having her foot kissed, with her subsequent flight and the lover’s recapture of her; they slowly realized the skill it took to express these small intimate glimpses and were charmed by the whole idea, which was far more sensually voluptuous and subtle than they expected. As the music wound down to a lovely echoing coda, the lady ended her performance blissfully collapsing in a dying swam pose, but ever the flirt, her hand slowly stretching out and placing her hand on Tidus’ bare foot; then Narsen ended his movements with the same gesture, also collapsing slowly and placing a hand on her foot as if to recapture her.

She gently disengaged from Tidus and Narsen long seconds after the slow beat ended and walked off the floor with a shy yet utterly devastating look backwards at Tidus. She and Narsen grinned at each other and bowed with a bit of a flourish; then to break the tension, brought out a bottle of offworld liquor forward, fizzing with bubbles and they poured off a toast to her mates, who were elated that she’d finally let loose and did an Earth kura –mei for them; everyone was hugely relieved and vowed Tidus was a leader among men. Who else had the balls to try to get into an Earth woman’s head?

They happily collapsed back on pillows to watch pretty courtesans serve them skewers of grilled meat and fish, washed down with sake and wine. Tidus was very happy with the evening; she had risen to the challenge beautifully; he had molded her to be part of the team and now he was rewarded. Half hopeful, he looked up at her under his lashes and subtly moved his hand back on the pillow next to him, subtly trying to signal an invitation to sit next to him again; the evening would be a perfect triumph if she could allow herself to let him pull her into a kura-mei with him. He thought it would be the perfect combination of revenge and power; he wanted to claim her as his pet under Zander’s nose and at the same time, show off his mastery of a difficult trainee to the team.

Tarja carefully kept a distance from Tidus, but smiled and acknowledged the invitation with a subtle tap of her fan; she then let herself be persuaded to sit on the other side of Djanis, who whispered that Sanjina and he would like to go back to the house of the rising sun with her and learn her kura-mei; he frankly admitted it had excited them. Tarja could see so, as the pair kept clasped hands under the table, rubbing thighs and smiling at each other blandly above to all. She was moved to a sudden tenderness for them and to distract the other mates from seeing the pair-off and teasing them, she amused her mates by telling the story of why she had agreed to go to the house of the rising sun for the first time and quoted them as much of the lyrics of the song as she remembered, which made them laugh; other clever comments about houses of ill repute were made and they decided to give Tarja an education before the summer was over, warning her to not wear the split kimono, or they’d all be arrested for walking around with unsheathed tantos all night.

The evening ended without any further insanity, Narsen grinning at Tarja’s very generous fee and Tidus’ quiet invitation to teach his team; the lesson of grace did not go unnoticed; Tidus had prided himself on his limberness and graceful moves as a consort; he could sink in a split just as well as Narsen, but they all had agreed they never saw anything like his choreography and wanted to learn. Then, the evening of delights was over. Slightly disappointed, Tidus left with the men whom swung up on their horses and rode into the night, leaving the two women to follow in a jekka, as a skin-tight kimono did not make a horse ride possible. Distant thunder rumbled in the hot night, and the jekka man hurried, wanting to find cover before the downpour of rain.

The guard common room was dark and everyone was absent, despite the early hour of the night. Sanjina swallowed and whispered: ”Can you say you saw me to my room? I …I don’t want to sleep alone tonight..storms still scare me.” Tarja nodded, thinking: _I don’t blame you for lying; I’m about to make life a lot more complicated tonight myself…_ ”Sleep protected, my darling girl.”

Then, with a measured step that shook, but kept moving, she slowly walked down the hall and silently pushed at the door of Tidus’ private room.

The room was dark, but filled with warm scent of amber incense; he was sitting on the wide window ledge very calmly, his legs crossed as he watched the rain fall. He only acknowledged her presence with a turn of his head and turned back to watch the threads of silk rain unravel from heaven to the ground. He was undecided about what to do. He had hoped the transformation was complete but it was not; in hot disappointment he cried: _She didn’t come to me, Djevon!_ Djevon answered in the cool moist breeze as if flooding Tidus’ nostrils with his own clarity of thought: _Tidus, are you blind? She did exactly as you bid her to; you just expected it to be in your way. She did come, she did give herself to you in front of all and here she is, come again, just for you….you alone..._

Now sure she had misunderstood, Tarja slowly began to back up and exit before she made a total fool of herself.

“Lock the door. Then come here. I want to look at you.”

She began to really shake, as his voice held an iron note she’d never heard used on her before. Light bloomed and he simply looked at her, filling his eyes with her figure displayed in the sleek coral silk.

“Good. A woman I see, not a warrior. Are you ready become a Spirean? The first rule is submit to pleasure of Djevon. Understand? “

Nervous, all she could do was nod. Mentally sighing at having to lead the way as if in a lesson, he began to unwrap his Obi, but she stopped him, taking the length of silk from his hands. “Tidus…you asked me to come to you….please, this is mykura-mei, a private one just for you, and you alone. Understand?”

Tarja surprised him with that first move; bemused he nodded, giving her the lead. She gently knelt for a moment, touching his feet, then heart, then forehead in the Indian gesture of respect at the beginning of the book of Kama Sutra she remembered. She thought she would try to make it as much of a ritual as he did, and focus on giving him the pleasure of all the senses. She took his command as something of a challenge. _Am I capable of that much? Would this night bring him as dizzying array of sensual overload as I had?_ _Tidus, what the hell is sex here, anyway? Sometimes it seems like breathing here, everyone is so sexually charged; then it seems like it’s sacred. I have no idea which direction to take it tonight! Well, Tarja girl, here it goes…just dive in and pray it doesn’t blow up in my face…_

Tidus was a bit uncomfortable at first when Tarja initiated the first contact, each point on foot, heart 8 head burning with invisible warmth. She then charmingly caressed his face, reciting an old Indian love lyric:

_Whose foot step is this?_

_Whose shadow is this?_

_There was a knock at my heart, who entered here?_

_Who spread this vibrant color over me?_

As she spoke, Tarja’s fingers slid down his neck, his chest and torso, leaving trails of exquisite fire, which she followed with kisses at the sutra’s points of desire on the neck just below the ear, the hollow between the collarbones and the sun-bronzed nipple; he gasped as she suddenly bit down, but as she hovered on the edge of pain, he burned with a searing intensity he’d never felt before. “The lash of a tiger’s tail” she softly informed him. Slowly, he begins to understand that she had taken his sutras to heart, she somehow understood without being told the level of pleasure he had dreamed of soaring to one day _. YES!! Come to me! Drown me in pleasure, darling girl!_ And then with a deep excitement he found himself letting go; shaking with desire, he allowed gentle hands to untie the loose pants and let them drop to the floor with a caress to his backside, another shock; he’d never had a woman caress him there, she did it boldly, like a man appreciating a woman’s finest asset, slowly running hands appreciatively over the swell of muscles and the sheer feel of the golden smooth skin.

Her hands slid under his cheeks, tightened in a firm grip and picked him up with an unexpected strength, walking three steps, then gently deposited his frame on the bed-platform.

Dazed, he looked up thinking: _Holy Djevon, did she just do what I thought she did?_ Taking another cue from a memory of the sutras, she daintily knelt, picked up the silken drape over the soft mattress and kissed it before slowly climbing on top of him, pausing to kiss other points of his body he had never thought of as erotic before: the inside of an ankle; the gentle bump of the pelvic bone; the beating pulse point of his wrist. His gilt head was softly kissed and soon, she began filling him with the deep, sensual and satisfying kisses he had eagerly anticipated earlier. What happened next was wholly unexpected:

Sighing pleasurably at this sweet first act of love play, he relaxed into the futon; hands met and clasped as he began to enjoy the gentle attentions, then Tidus felt her slyly let go, searching for something on the side of the bed platform. He felt the brush of silk on his wrists and smiled, thinking she going to caress him with the soft fabric like any other courtesan, but no; she dove in deep water: she pulled the fabric tight in a swift sure move, slipknotting his wrists in seconds; she tethered him, looping the other end around her hand, pulling the slack out, jerking his arms above his head. His 1st instinct was to struggle, but he abruptly stopped as he felt the cool steel of his own tanto against his throat. Eyes wide in the dark, he wondered if she’d gone mad or had turned – but no, neither: She was exerting her control over the situation. He laid there in a curious state of fear that was excitement as she softly informed him: “The old rule no longer applies. The new rule is to submit to pleasure, Tidus. It’s time you submitted to someone. Accept. You’re not in control right now. Accept my pleasure, as *I* see fit to give you.”

Her head dipped down between his legs and began congress orally; on Spirea, it was an act normally reserved for same-sex male couples, and he momentarily began to fight it; she grabbed and at pulled the silk tether of the hands wrenching at her hair and jerked it over a post of the head board, to hold them above his head as she ruthlessly continued; he mentally cursed the fine quality of the Shinai silk as he couldn’t break the knot or the loop no matter how he struggled; he was trapped! His growl turned into a shocked gasp as she boldly slid hands under him, firmly grasping his well muscled cheeks to bring him closer, then quite shockingly, erotically, pulled warm fingers in very deliberate caress through his cleft, gently running over the most intimate areas of his body with a boldness which made him blush hotly; she grasped his sex and slowly continued to pull the warm fingers upward; then free of her sweetly punishing mouth, she threw a leg over and sank onto him, bringing a soft cry of excitement as he felt he was finally buried in what he’d been dying to get into all night.

_The Sporting of the Sparrow_ , _owww…riiight..more like the endurance flight of an eagle!_ Tarja thought as she pushed her tired leg muscles to keep moving , after taking the dominant position with Tidus an eon of time ago; head thrown back, the bronzed skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, his soul took flight, as he was freed from the physical work of pleasure-making, gently forced to accept whatever she chose to excite him with; her kisses, her pace, her touch; when  she decided it was time, the gate of heaven was broken through; Djevon leaned close, approving: _….ahhh…I love you, Tidus…give me what is mine…_ Sweating, gasping, Tidus climaxed with an intensity he’d never felt before.

As he lay there, the red heat of the climax subsiding, she reached over his head, poured a draught and rinsed her mouth, then shyly smiled at him; Tidus looked at her dazed, thinking: _Djevon, she takes pleasure better than a man…I swear I heard your voice, it was that intense!_

“Djevon, woman…If you ever go professional, I’d name you the black...”

Tarja began to quietly laugh, then poured a few drops of the beverage on him from the goblet in her hand; ‘There, now thee are blessed by the black, Tidus mine!”

“Yours?” he is suddenly intent, hopeful of hearing more.

Tarja’s face burned at the slip of her tongue; but Tidus saw her face in the candlelight, eyes shyly downcast as a virgin’s and inwardly, he delighted in the knowledge that she felt more than just loyalty – she just wasn’t ready to say it yet. He worked the Obi tether off the post, pulled a hand free, picked up the hand now nervously plucking at the pillow propping up his head and kissed it, then gently led it down his body in a controlled caress; then Tarja’s second sutra began.

She quietly sat still and did not speak for a moment. Then leaning over, she carefully untied the Obi, speaking just as carefully in the soft dark: “ I see you… and I think there’s something else I need to give you a kura-mei on tonight…or maybe it’s more of a sutra. You may not realize it, but you’ve spent most of your life either being given instructions, or giving instructions in the bed, in love. Your whole act of relations between two people is…well, a set of rules. Everyone follows, everything is predictable. But how can you reach an Eden if the instructions don’t tell you how to get there? What if your Eden was different than what the rulebook says? ….What if…what if there were no rules? What if…you had…you decided what direction to take to get to Eden? What if…you had total control on what happens?”

“So…Tidus…for tonight…for the rest of my life here, I am giving total control of how it goes between us to you, to do with as you will. There are no rules, no laws, no order anymore, at least with me. You can do anything…or nothing, it is your choice. I think the path to your Djevon’s Eden lies outside of rules….and I’m willing to let you take the road less travelled with me, if it helps you get closer to Djevon.”

Gathering courage, she added another thought, the closest she had ever come to admitting how she really felt:

“Are you wondering why am I doing this? Ever love something so much you’d do everything, anything to be part of that world, even it means losing everything you know about life as you know it? On my world we have a saying: only the best of servants can make a good master. I am a servant, _your_ servant tonight.” _But one day, I expect to be the master._

He laid there silently absorbing her words; she quietly exited from the warm bed and sighed, trying to remember where her clothes were in the dark. She threw them over her shoulder and headed to the door, hurrying before her breath caught in a sob she was sure he’d hear; then abruptly, she was stopped by the soft thud of a tanto thrown against the door, missing her by mere inches. Long arms ungently turned her and shoved her back into the room. “Always running away, are you? What are you so afraid of? My No? Or my Yes? “

He pulled her to him and kissed her with all the savagery of his desert blood and the passion of a man who faces death every day; the clothes dropped in a heap, forgotten at the onslaught of the man’s mouth, sending them both spiralling up in an updraft from the banked fires leaping out of control.

Strong arms lifted her up, her feet dangling a good sixteen inches off the floor and stepping closer, he lowered her in a fluid move down, down, his smooth torso until flesh met flesh that was hot, dry and throbbing. He shifted his weight as he recklessly thrust into her, buried to the hilt and clasped her hips. It was a masterful move, not the delicate exploration of a boy; he knew at this moment he was all man, and he was going to show her what it really meant to be his.

The thrust was meant to awaken every nerve in Tarja's body; the ancient who told of the technique to him explained that it would either finish a woman off to the point of passing out, or bring her to a heavenly level of excitement. Selfishly, passionately, he wanted her full attention; her shocked face now had two wide eyes looking straight at him. Nobody else in the world existed,now.

He carelessly walked to the bed and knelt with her pinioned to his lap, throbbing painfully hot and hard in her with each step; a hand grasped her jaw firmly; she resisted and he pulled her face back up, none too gently and shook it until she defiantly opened her eyes; Relentlessly, powerfully, he ground out: "Look at me. Look. At. Me." the last three words were pounded out, each word a punctuation in itself. “What’s my answer?” he asked with a blaze in his eyes, no longer the clear blue of Djevon’s skies but that color at the base of the flame, where the fire burns hottest.

Tarja couldn’t even get out the word and swallowed, her throat dry;

“Tell me!”

She tried again and the word escaped as a feather of sound: _Yes._

Overcome, now intimately understanding he was given the sensual eroticism of control, Tidus simply became a tsunami, using all the virile strength of his young body to express his newfound sense of sexuality; too late, Tarja realized she had not satisfied him, but only opened the door to the raging fire within. She simply let the heat wave of pent up passion crash over her, letting her body roll with his as he jumped off the dizzying height she had brought him to with total abandon, fiercely allowing himself pleasure, sinking in deeper, harder, faster with every thrust, his voice rising in a wordless cry at as the second gate of heaven was crashed through.

He came to his senses eventually, and exhausted, he regarded the creature tangled in his arms. Touched to the point of tenderness with Tarja at breaching the barriers of Spirea’s protocols, he was near speechless. Wordlessly, he laid there looking at her in the candlelight and the trembling words formed in his mind: _Oh Tarja, what have you done? For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to be someone else at their demand; I didn’t have to be a guardian, a teacher, or a hero, either. I’ve been hiding behind giving pleasure, pleasing everyone, so I didn’t have face the fact I didn’t know how to receive it . I now understand that there are no rules in love, no order. No one has ever seen me so clearly..._

Shaken herself, physically near exhaustion, Tarja laid quietly in the shelter of Tidus’ arms, also looking at him. When the candle by the bed guttered and died, she silently got up, finishing the private kura-mei with a simple Namaste of hands to forehead and bowed, hands to heart.

A profound silence was shared between them; nothing more needed to be said, but they still communicated their interior landscape with the way they treated each other; gentle supportive arms encircled a slim waist to assist in walking down the long hall to the bath house; cascades of warm water were poured like offerings over heads and down backs in the warm pool of the bath; a careful hand wrapped a wrinkled silk obi, then just as carefully, another hand unwrapped it and hung back over a bedpost.

Tidus’ formal bow at parting was deep and silent, but his mind said: _How do I ever let you go, now that you know me?_

And then they both retreated behind the soft hissing veil of night rain, alone in their now unsatisfying, too large, and empty beds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Please give the owners of the films Devdas full credit for the lovely lyrics lifted from Maar Dala. No intent of profit is intended, the story is for amusement only.


	18. Chapter 18

The dawn crept in with a sweet soft rose light and even sweeter air, cleansed by the thunderstorm in the night. Tidus had finally fallen asleep to the sound of the rain and woke with a stillness of heart he hadn’t felt in years. He looked at the day like he had been born anew and gave in to his heart, running to the courtyard to lead the sun salutation; his team , his brotherhood of the shield were arriving and he looked at them with fresh eyes, bright and clear as the day blooming above them. Like a fierce flight of eagles they wheeled and moved as one to the silent tai-chi-chuan steps and stretches, accented with the faint chant of the monks in the temple floating on the cool breeze; as he raised his hands to the sky his heart swelled and he felt touched with a brief but everlasting moment of bliss.

The peaceful mood carried over into practice, where he simply laid a finger on his lips and demonstrated the kata and moves without speaking a word; in turn they kept silent, the complex attack-defense steps punctuated by only the whistle and ping of swords meeting. Jingo stepped up and crinkling his wizened monkey face into brief, lively expression of pure delight, his black eyes merry with silent laughter, he stepped into the sensei’s place and silently went through the exercise of falling; with great skill and verve, he demonstrated scenes of overbalancing, and other scenarios , comically illustrating them with mimed portraits of people they knew well: The fat lady in the laundry; the bath house attendant with legs like a stork; their own Akana in too much armor. At the end, they at back on their heels and grinned at each other, sweating and touched with a bit of Tidus’ bliss. He smiled like a shy sun breaking through the clouds, a glimpse of the noble heart finally surfacing and his hand silently swept into the command: _disperse._

They tumbled into the bath house together, chattering and laughing , then ran to their guard post in the high court for a morning duty call like they were on the way to a party, leaving Tidus to shower and eat at leisure.

“Damn it Djanis, are you paying fortunetellers or something? I’ll be broke for two weeks! “ “Hah! I just know _human_ nature! I knew she’d tumble him proper!” “Eeeeh! And I thought that bath house fight was the moment of Eden! It was just a warm-up! It took him five minutes to get his tanto out of the door, you should have seen it – “ then lowering his voice to a whisper, Iwami continued:”- and guess what I saw? Notice his Obi was different this morning? – I saw his Obi, it was slipknotted over the bedpost, I bet he had her tethered all night!” “Ohhh no, you’re wrong. Just look at him, LOOK at him – he’s the one walking around all dreamy-eyed like a consort whose been basted all night in a six way kura-mei, you idiot.” “Damn Djevon in his bright blue heaven, all the good ones are taken. I’ll never get laid by an off worlder. I can just tell he wants her all to himself, the greedy bastard.” “He’s not greedy, Iwami; frankly, I think they’re going to pair off.” “Want to wager on that? Oh. Wait. I’m broke.”

Iwami thought about the pairing and a few minutes later chuckled: “I hope to Djevon there’ll be some peace around here now. I never saw him so pissed, except that one time the empress slapped him for cutting his tail off –remember that?” Djanis groaned: ” Do I ever! I never want to be thirteen again, Iwami! Speaking of bastards, here he comes!”

Tidus and Tarja did their best to go on as nothing had changed, determined to be realistic and not expect anything beyond last night; Tidus reminded himself : _Tsunamis happen only once in a century, why should a night like that happen again?_ Tarja told herself firmly: _It was a perfect night, but I’m no Cinderella and this world is not a fairytale. Let go._ But again, a subtle shift in the mood between them had occurred. A restless questing energy filled them both the rest of the day; their eyes sought each other’s out first in any room they were in; each drew near the other during any break; their security sweeps of the rooms were like a pair of hunting hounds unleashed.  

During the midday meal, Tidus casually leaned over to pour her water and greeted her with a friendly smile, but kept his tone distant. He politely urged her to eat in between conversations with his mates while wolfing down enough grilled tuna for both of them, but declined the rice and dessert in favor of the stir-fried greens. Akana, ever subtle, dryly teased him, asking if his captain was feeling weak and politely begged the cook to bring his own special sashimi, combination of abalone, oysters and sea urchins; to the guard’s amusement, including Tarja, he absentmindedly wolfed the male yang enhancing food it down without thinking. As a man, they grinned at Tarja, who shrugged and grinned back at them behind the man’s back as they hurried behind him down the long hall to the lesser imperial dining room in the sunset.

Later, in the still of the night, a shadow crept into Tarja’s room with the silent tread of an assassin and sat on the window ledge cross-legged, watching her unconscious movements and murmurs with a deep possessiveness and feeling of utter satisfaction as he recalled the gems of words that he had absolute control. Yes, he was in control. He had the freedom to do anything. Everything. Tonight he chose nothing.

Tidus changed and the guard team changed with him; he was harder on them, but on the right things; he did everything in his power to teach them how to survive in the smooth backbiting labyrinth of court as well as on the battlefield ; he tried his best to bring out the unique skills in all his mates and made them demonstrate, explain in greater and greater detail about why and how they did what they did. They took field trips into the countryside, practiced in wild canyons, grassy plains and even a riverbank, pushing them until they were mud head to foot. They began to see the strong noble leader come out within him and they began to love him, for the right reasons, too.

The little eagle was pushed to her limits just like anyone else and never shown any special consideration in front of the team, but they knew better. The very fact he did not show favor gave him away to them; with humor, they let him pursue his path, knowing one day he’d figure out he didn’t have to hide the fact he was on fire for her, because they already knew. Tarja was more courageous than Tidus and simply admitted she was his, she loved him, and that he was in control of how it went when directly asked over the night campfire, but kindly asked that they not spread the facts, as she had no expectations and he had ties to the imperial house, she did not. She shrugged and ended the conversation with: “It ends when it ends and I will leave with a grateful heart. I never felt I was truly a part of anything until now.”

In the meantime, there were moments glimpsed that made them all not only laugh, but proud of the pair; when he thought no one was looking he would just look at her with mock severity until a dimple appeared in her cheek, then he’d flash a smile and somehow sidle up next to her. When they paired off for blade practice, they were a stirring sight, as she had the knack of blending seamlessly to his movement, so onlookers saw nothing but a performance that looked like it was sweetly choreographed. It took outright spying, but one could see them walking in the dawn or early evening , shyly holding hands; the spy was well pleased at the way the lady was changing towards the man, glimpsing the beginnings of a growing trust between them.

Tarja’s gift for the Tidus and the team was still in the making; she would think of it, and smile at how delighted he’d be once Tidus had it in his hands, which made the guard mates amused, since it was at the oddest times, like when she was sharpening her tanto. She patiently took the time to get them to move differently, like she did, using everything to give leverage or advantage, spending her own pay to bring in Narsen and music or drums to help them stretch and learn to balance themselves; slowly, they became more limber and began to see the rhythm of the dance in their defense as well as their offense.

By midsummer, shy boy’s gifts began to mysteriously appear in Tarja’s days: a rare white eagle’s feather on a bridle, a delicate wild orchid laid beside a sleeping head to see upon waking, despite the wealth to buy any amount of jewels or amusements ladies of court received from lovers.

One extravagance did appear: A new Obi came and stayed put on Tidus’ slim waist. The other was still used, but never in public, or quite in the way the weaver had intended. The length of silk had become an erotic fetish between them as Tidus explored the aspect of total control over an intimate relationship, something he’d never been free to do, as Tarja had wisely seen. She had strung the bits and pieces of his story together, and saw he had been put in a controlling environment, never being allowed to make the simplest of decisions without being ordered, told, or instructed in some fashion. That, with the protocol filled life of a courtier, had made him feel like he had no control of his own life and was beginning to choke on it. She pitied him, as she had been given far more freedom to make her own decisions on her world, and had matured in her mind far ahead of him in some aspects of emotional intelligence, namely the responsibility of the freedom of choice. She felt all he needed was a little push of courage and once he saw he wasn’t immediately squashed under an imperial thumb, he’d become a better man.

She never turned him away; she never said no, or questioned his actions, except to ask to clarify if she didn’t understand. In turn, he was never violent or abusive during his learning curve; he had no wish to hurt or humiliate, as he had been subject to every form of humiliation that some of his so-called patrons could think of in the past six years as a consort. He simply wanted to be in a relationship where he could do as he pleased, when he pleased, without having to beg, grovel, or go through a book of protocol. Therefore, Tarja’s offer was his fantasy dream fulfilled; for the past six years he had been breathing offal, and now he had been thrust into wide open spaces with fresh air. However, it didn’t mean that he didn’t have a decidedly unique view of control.

He would teasingly capture her with the silk of the Obi floating down around her waist and pull her close for a delightfully affectionate kiss, tender as a young man with his first love; some nights he would just lay against her, wrapped in it like a shawl and simply feel her warmth, feeling as safe as an eaglet within the breast feathers of a fierce parent as he watched the sun set or rise from quiet corners in the palace or the countryside; late one night, he pounced on her, tied her by the wrists and led her all the way down the dark hallway as his captive to the bath house, where he teasingly pushed her in the bath which he had filled with extravagance of flower petals; then just as extravagantly, poured an entire crock of costly temple oil over them both, laughingly anointing them in a waterfall of golden ribbons until she cried from his unspoken adoration of her; he wrapped it around her eyes after sitting her on a pillow, then proceeded to carefully brush a stanza of a love sutra in a lovely flowing design down her back, then bade her to dress, leaving him a tantalizing glimpse of the first letters to peep from the edge of her gi, which started a new kick of fashion in the guard; in a fiercely passionate night, he ripped off her kimono with a satisfying sound of tearing fabric, and bound them both together with the obi at the wrist, keeping her imprisoned in his bed until dawn broke; just as fiercely, Tarja stuffed it in his mouth, gagging him to keep from screaming at the intense soaring climax as she penetrated him with gentle fingers when had he plunged into her in the sweetly punishing position of the conqueror after a wild night in temple bar.

That night was a turning point in their journey; he laid trembling afterwards, the sheer intensity of the ecstatic sensation leaving his stomach tied in knots; silent tears trickled on Tarja’s shoulder and she simply held him, rocking him tenderly, whispering every pet name and loving phrase she could think of until the trembling stopped; then with a slow careful line of questions, he admitted that had not been his first time to experience penetration; he had lied to her. Instead of becoming angry and pushing him away, as he had expected, she simply nodded; after a few minutes of silent reassuring affections, she asked: ”Can I tell you a story?” He nodded, grateful for any distraction from the upswell of unsavory memory. She went on to tell him of how an uncle, a trusted member of her family, had molested her at age 12 and that she’d never told her father, which she regretted. She carried the baggage all spring until her sensei had noticed the change in her behavior; when she finally admitted her shameful truth, bitterly exclaiming it was all her fault, he changed her life forever by telling her: The shame has power over you because you allow it. Then he taught her every pin and throw he knew that summer, and the next time uncle had tried to assert dominance, she had thrown him and pinned him until her aunt came running at her screams for help. She learned much later that the sensei had also taken a baseball bat with brutal efficiency to her uncle’s balls in an alley behind a bar one night. As his head lolled on her shoulder, he sleepily apologized for not trusting her, it had hurt too much to tell anyone. As he was drifting into sleep, she whispered : “Hush; we will speak no more of it; you stay here tonight, in my bed. and one day, when you’re ready, you come tell me, and I’ll teach you everything I know.” _And break the old bitch’s hands, once I find out who._

In the dark, she lay awake, carefully listening as he muttered and tossed in the first stage of sleep; she heard a name whispered and memorized it, with great prejudice.

Tidus remembered the next morning and still disturbed, sat in front of the sculpture of Djevon in the courtyard for a good hour, reliving the hateful events leading up to his expulsion from the court and into temple training: An aristocratic group of women would gather in the baths to discuss politics, and he had been asked to serve wine, the usual service a young prince gives to his elders; of course, as a youth growing into young manhood, Tidus had been a gorgeous creature, his golden skin blooming as he grew out of the coltish dew of youth; the even white teeth, intense blue eyes and luxurious fall of golden hair already attracting attention in the high court. Titania was dead, not six months gone, so Tidus did not have the protection of her arrows, with a tongue sharp and inciseful as a blade against the refined accents of high court aristocrats. The women’s discussion had been lively, led by Yu-shinta and he had carefully poured wine, not spilling a drop, until a certain woman had elbowed him cleverly below the table; he spilled the wine on her and his gi; she had picked up the fabric, pretending to feel the wet fabric in mock consternation, but had greedy grasping fingers below the table, running between his legs; disgusted, he brought the pitcher crashing on her head and looked to Yu-Shinta as his protector; she simply gave him a poisonous look , then laughed shortly, returning to her conversation. The woman rose, and dragged him off kicking and screaming, stating she would lesson the whelp for her lady; no one stood up for him or was even concerned as she slammed the door shut to the dressing room and overpowered him, holding a tanto to his throat as she bent him over a bench and started to rape him. He screamed and bit and thrashed with all the power of a 12 year old boy, but had been held fast by his long golden tail; desperate, he submitted to the cruel penetrating fingers until she was distracted with her own apex of passion; then he grabbed the forgotten tanto, stabbed her in the leg and ran, straight to his father, whom was known to him only as Danna, the center of his universe. He remembered his father’s affectionate hug and kiss that day, as it was the last he had felt for over eight years. The next day, he was ordered to the temple; in a small defiance, he’d stolen a tanto, and fiercely hacked his long golden tail off, earning the harsh correcting slap from Yu-shinta’s hand in front of the court.

He didn’t tell her his story at first, shy and proud, but somewhere in a crowded bar where no one knew them, he found himself spilling the whole sordid tale over Aki; suddenly it didn’t seem much different than what Tarja had told him, and by the 5th thimble he realized he felt lighter inside. At thimble # 6, she turned to him, tilted her head and asked: ”So…what do you want to do about it? Have you ever confronted her? “ He shook his head; she continued: “ What’s the legal way to handle it?” “You file a case with the high court, or you can duel it out, but there are heavy fines and imprisonment if the claim can’t be legally upheld. Plus, all the witnesses were Yu-shinta’s cronies. They lied for her.” “Ah. I see why you were in such a dilemma then. Spirean law is tough. I’m curious now - What do offworlders do? “ “They can’t do anything outside their marked territories. But inside them, anything goes, it’s neutral territory; whatever the offworlder law is, that trumps Spirean law– we’ve had a lot of things happen, but simply put, we’re powerless.”

Tarja absorbed this and changing tact, she charmingly asked if he’d like a trip down Festival street, where she spent an extravagant amount of her pay on every amusement that was to be had. Festival street was a place of wonder and delight for any Spirean child, where circus acts vied with musicians, street food, simple games, stalls of brightly colored gifts, toys, jewelry, all vied with each other to be seen, touched and played with – for the right price. Families took children there on their birth days, young lovers, old lovers, and anyone with a wish to relive their childhood came to Festival street. She pulled him along at first, teasing him with imitations of his firm jawed guard’s face, then as they went farther and farther in, he gave into the lighter feeling she had been elevated to; she made him laugh at things he had forgotten to enjoy, from sticky sweet rice balls to the heckler on the beam above the water tank to the dancing dogs who seemed to want to lick his face, no matter what he said or did. It was just plain honest fun, no heavy politics, no angst, no seriousness. After spoiling him outrageously so, they returned to the guardhouse tired from walking but much more light hearted. She gently led him into the bath and had the bath house girl help her work his muscles until he fell asleep on the table, then ever so carefully, picked him up and carried him to his bed; as he sleepily sighed at the soft cotton quilt floating down on him, she quietly climbed on the window ledge and watched him until she saw his breathing deepen into sleep before she said it: _I love you._

Tarja began to hunt her prey in court the next day and carefully studied the habits of the aristocrat, which hadn’t changed much; her victims still littered the court, but were usually bribed or intimidated into silence. She was an aging vulture, and therefore had to expand her pursuit for young flesh farther and farther away with each new wrinkle of age; therefore she was pleasantly excited at receiving a marker that indicated she had been added to the list of acceptable Spireans at the infamous The House of the Rising Sun. Tarja kept her ear close to her plans and activities for a week or two, then picked her night.

Indulgently, Tidus gave into her, thinking she just wanted to play kura-mei Earth style, which he felt he was getting the hang of; the thundering music of the enormous Babylon was growing on him, especially when the partner made him feel like he was the only man in the world. They listened to a set of music and she disappeared, saying she was going to look for a special bottle of offworld liquor; the bar she chose was close to the private cabanas, filled with private parties and bizarre mixes of offworlders and Spireans; she knew exactly where the old vulture was and made sure to stride by, so the imperial shield guard gi was seen; of course it was too much to resist for a predator to taunt its prey, so it was relatively easy to draw her out. Tidus leaned on the bar and had minded his own business until a hand grabbed his cheeks and squeezed them roughly; he gave a sharp slap to the hand without looking and spun to lightly admonish the offworlder it was unacceptable, then his face drained of its color when a face from his past was grinning at him. “I was wondering when you’d show your face in here!” she laughed “ What’s the matter, that sweet ass still tender from my last lesson? Or did you lose your taste for Spireans?”

Tidus recovered enough to lazily drawl in his best high court accent “Why, Mariko, how kind of you to remember me, though I did always wish to be a better stranger than acquaintance.”

That had the effect he desired, and her face flushed as the nearby tables snickered in amusement at the witty insult. She drew her hand back for a slap, which her escort caught, furiously shaking her head. She settled for splashing her cup at his face, then threw the cup, which he dodged neatly; his eyes made her uncomfortable with their steady calm gaze. She seemed somehow littler, smaller, but he still held his tongue, as she was still a lady recognized by the high court; and he had no such lady in his corner.

People began to drift up curious at the two Spireans facing off; they anticipated a fight, and true to reputation of a Babylon, a blind eye was turned to such things; Offworlder vs. Spirean was usually a losing match for Spirean,as most offworlders had better weapons;   Spirean to Spirean usually meant entertainment, If you enjoyed blades being used in most original ways ; no one called the door men because if they came, the fun would end. They looked forward to the fight; the young man was a beauty, and some there considered it would be fun to see his pretty face get carved up, or as the aristo said, fill his ass to satisfy his curiosity. They all knew women were the real power in Spirea and she would squash Tidus like a bug on the floor, unless he had a woman backing him. Amused and voracious, they saw no lady in sight.

His eye was feral and he gritted out: “ I’m not a 12 year old, Mariko; maybe you should taste my steel and see how it feels to be penetrated; I’m sure it’ll be a novelty, you bitch.”

Mariko shrugged, turning away as if finished , but deceptive as the predator she was, she yanked at the war-chain wrapped around her waist under her Obi; it expanded in a singing hiss and bit Tidus’ wrist, wrapping around the honey skin. She grinned again, her face transforming into a hungry viper; over-confident, she turned to the crowd, holding up the chain so all could see her claim her prey, then jerked it to bring him to his knees. The line went taut, but did not give. Puzzled, she turned.

Tarja had her foot on the fine chain, arms crossed in a bored attitude. She shook her head, her mountain jade eyes sparkling, but her face as keenly predatory as the little eagle she had been nicknamed for. She spoke, her voice dripping with mock consternation: “Oh… Mariko…a 22 year old consort? Isn’t he a bit…old for you? I thought your tastes were helpless boys.”

“He offends mine eye, so I claim blood!”

“Well. That’s a different story.” Triumphant, Mariko pulled on the chain again, not understanding the tooth of Tarja’s claim, or that Tarja’s playtime was just beginning. She stood like a rock, foot on the chain. She softly informed Mariko:

“Mine. And what is mine shall only be lessoned by mine own hand.”

“Back away Spirean, you have no power here !” playing her trump card at last.

Tarja delicately arched a brow: “ Who the hell said *I *was Spirean? That offends mine ear!”

The foot on the chain delicately spun a circle, looping the chain around a boot and stepped back, pulling Mariko to a tumble on the ground. Tarja shook the chain off Tidus’ wrist and strode forward, kicking the chain away. Mariko’s hair was unkindly used as a handle to haul her upward and pull her to a table, where Tarja repeatedly slammed her face into the wood punctuating her next words: “This. Is. Mine.”

“If you ever lay hands on my beloved consort again, I’ll take your hands off, and let him put them wherever he likes. If you try to challenge him on Spirean soil, remember he’s a now a man, not a boy. Look,” pulling the blood smeared face up to see Tidus; “ Oh yes. Grown into a fine, fine man. “

Mariko spat in his direction, the bloody spittle landing short.

“Disrespect mine beloved consort? Naughty.”

Tarja looked at Tidus and asked: “Which hand was it?” “The left.” She pulled the offending member up and coolly broke the 1st two fingers that had caused pain and dropped Mariko abruptly. “I am satisfied. Mine claim is done.”

She walked off like the haughtiest of aristocrats and threw over her shoulder: “She’s all yours….consort mine.” Then snapped her fingers for a server to bring her a drink like nothing of import had happened in the last 5 minutes.

Tidus walked forward, tapped Mariko on the shoulder and slapped her across the mouth, making her stagger. He coldly informed her:” I believe the slap is considered a formal challenge; mistress. How do you answer? Do you accept a challenge from a man, a Spirean man?” Eyes frightened, she shook her head. Elated, he felt empowerment flooding in his mind at last. ”I expect a formal apology for this…incident to be registered by dawn at the temple and I don’t care how many you have to bribe. You do it and live with the dishonor or I’ll be waiting with my second at your door. “

He was silent on the ride back through the streets of the city, and there was no love play afterwards that night. She smiled in the dark, thinking _: It was worth it._

Tidus had bowed deeply and held it tongue-tied, shy, his heart thudding as he replayed the words over and over in his mind: _Beloved consort. Consort mine._ He fell asleep at first thrilled to his toes, hugging a pillow in delight; it was the stuff all boys and men dream of, the woman had outright put herself between him and his old enemy like the fierce goddess of protection Kwanshin herself; if that wasn’t a sign of love, then he may as well shave his head and be a monk! He fell asleep hopeful, wondering what she would say as a declaration. But in the morning, things seemed different; she greeted him as usual and throughout the day, simply treated him as nothing had happened.

Confused and troubled in a way he couldn’t quite define, he avoided her that evening, painfully blushing and starting every time she spoke in the common room. The next day, he sought Seymour out for advice. He laid the whole of the incident out and anxiously asked if he’d caused a bigger problem. Seymour went through his analysis and finally commented: “Damn, she’s been clever! She gave you protection as a lady, then legally challenged with her claim on offworlder territory as an offworlder, dropped her claim once done without taking it outside the fence, so to speak, then let you free to challenge as Spirean and back her down. She becomes more subtle every day. I wouldn’t fret over what she said; it may have been a ruse to play the woman. She hasn’t declared herself, and probably may not, since you’re her captain and the son of Akiro!” _Though I suspect that doesn’t mean Djevon’s shite to her! I hope she does declare, before this idiot loses her from his pride – damn, he’s becoming more like his father every day! I don’t know whether to love him more or clout him in the head!_

Tidus left with one of his worries lifted, but he did not approach her again as a lover; it seemed there was something amiss, off step, between them; the dynamics of their relationship were shifting again; in Tidus’s world, after an incident of that magnitude, a woman would usually begin a formal courting phase and declare her intentions, usually starting with a paradoxic ritual of a public approach, usually gowned to advantage and richly jewelled, escorted by a small cavalcade of friends and family, then request to speak alone to her choice and politely ask for his consideration with tender words; the declaration could be preceded by any number of courting gifts, sometimes sent days in advance to sway the family’s opinion of the pair off, as much as to pleasantly excite a romantic turn of mind in the object of their affection. Once a declaration was accepted, the aristocrats usually exchanged tantos, or some personal valued object; the humbler folk simply exchanged their prayer beads or a knotted bracelet of blue thread, then if the courtship was successful, they would take part in the joining ritual.

Tarja did none of these things; he didn’t know if he should be more worried if she did or did not. For Tarja, she had no idea her words had caused such an uproar in his mind. To her, it was still the same: he had total control over how it went between them. Night after night he did not come to her, therefore she was forced to conclude he did not want her anymore. She retreated into a feigned wall of indifference, pretending his absence did not hurt. He felt as frustrated as he was before they’d tumbled into bed together, her face the smooth mask of indifference he had contended with for months; he felt walled off from her; he didn’t know how to approach her again – what if he had to start all over again?

Tarja thought her time with Tidus was over and made an appointment with tears, but told herself no weeping or feeling sorry for herself before seeking out a graceful way out of the guard service; besides, it was the last half of summer, and every day was beautiful; she told herself to be content, she had returned the favor that her sensei had done her so long ago. The mental scars her secret strange lover had were beginning to fade, whatever healing to be had would have to continue without her; she was no longer necessary.

And so, she accepted Sanjina’s invitation to take a week’s leave and travel with her to the Eid, where her brother was to be married. Leave was given without even glancing up at her face; all the guard turned out at the stable to bow, hug and kiss them goodbye, but she never looked back, thinking him gone already.

Tidus had stood there in the stable, one hand on the stone wall and the silence settled; with frightening insight, he realized how empty his night was going to be; he had taken it for granted she would be there, forever and always, even if he never looked her way again. _I never said any word of gratitude, much less one tender word! I am a proud fool! She had to have planned that asswhipping of Mariko – no woman would do that unless there was a fire in her heart for a man…she did it for me! Djevon, what if I’ve lost her?_

He looked up from his thoughts after squinting through the dust settling in the street and saw Djanis standing there, with a lost look on his face; he looked over at Tidus and hoarsely said: ” I am such a moron, I never said what I really wanted to say…Oh Djevon, how can we men bear such pain at parting?” “We part only to enjoy the sweetness of meeting again, mate….” Then stronger:” Come on, it’s not too late! The ridge road! “ They both mounted and left the stable in a gallop, laughing wildly in streets as they raced to the gate; then once through, they settled in the saddle and began the run in earnest; of course they missed the pair by a good half hour, but could see them riding at the base of the bluff below; at the edge of the bluff they both watched the trail of dust as the women rode southwest; Djanis , elated, shouted to Djevon:”Watch over my Kwanshin, my archer, Djeveon! Let her know I pray for her!” Tidus was silent, crying in his heart to Djevon also, but a different prayer: _Bring her back, Djevon! Let her know this once my heart is with her, and I’ll never give her any reason to run from me again!_

Djevon answered in a soft caress of breeze, setting the eagle feathers on his bridle to fluttering; the memory of a feather fluttering from his hair in the same way one night made him smile at last. Then they picked their way back to the city and got uproariously drunk after they reassured themselves that their women did promise to return at least six times over.

 


	19. Chapter 19

The Eid was a peaceful interlude for Tarja and she felt nothing but a stillness of heart riding with nothing but red sand below and blue sky above. She had hours to let her thoughts fly as the steady beat of the horses hooves lulled them both into a tranced state of mind; Tarja thought of all the time she had been thrown in the path of one beautiful creature so many times and with a silent ring of recognition in her soul that she had put on her path deliberately; no matter how she veered or tried to run, she was always steered back to the same one. She recalled a discussion about fate with a classmate who was deeply religous: _‘To my mind, Tarja, one cannot go against what God has determined for you, even if you seek to run to the very ends of the Earth; if he has ordained that you should do something, you will be set upon the path again and again, until you accomplish it; then, he is done with you, his presence leaves you as a water pours from a cup…and you are left alone in the sun, praising his name…’ Ahh...yes, Hassan, I see what you were trying to say now…just because you’re ordained to meet, it doesn’t mean it was ordained that you stay....Oh God, how can I thank you for knowing love at last? I love him… I love him… I love him…_

Djevon caressed her cheek with the breeze and murmured: _Good. Now go tell him, before he faints._

Sanjina had bloomed once away from the city, her horsemanship becoming apparent to Tarja; once they reached the jewel of the Eid, the pretty oasis town of Hoseki, they were treated to true desert hospitality; the traveler was held supreme, as they believed in the second book of Djevon devotedly, claiming any stranger could be Djevon come to walk among them and test them for their quality of heart. Sanjina’s family were also silver haired, and beautiful people, tall, willowy and furious riders; they could fire arrows while at a full gallop; their small cavalry was far more disciplined than any imperial unit and made a game of snatching things from the ground or off other horses; They startled Tarja by snatching her up, making her scream, then cheerfully passed her from rider to rider; once she realized she had landed safely on the third horse’s hindquarters, she screamed again, but delightedly as a child; they trilled in zagareets and whoops as they wheeled and curveted their proud desert bred horses; it pleased them she didn’t faint or fall. It was mad, bad, wild ride, and it exhilarated her greatly; she felt had she landed on here in Spirea first, she might never have left for the capital.

They had two days to enjoy before the wedding rituals began; Sanjina and her sisters had an immense amount of fun explaining the desert traditions; the shy and terrified girl was quickly replaced with a vivacious young woman who was adored by her family; the imperial gi was ditched within the hour for desert clothing, loose and cool, tinted in the deep reds of the desert sands with soft desert boots; Tarja felt the exquisite young goddess with long slim limbs flashing from the high slits in her gauzy dusty red robes, girt with a quiver, a long wicked silver sheathed knife bound with red leather straps and a wealth of jingling silver ornaments to compete with her horse’s mane was indeed a vision of Kwanshin herself and giggled that poor Djanis would be writing books of poetry if he ever saw her in the Eid. Sanjina tossed her head and rolled her eyes as she wittily replied: ’Oh Djevon’s heaven, I wish he’d throw down that damned quill and kiss me. It’s the one time where the sword is mightier than the pen, and the damn fool’s got it backwards!”

Her horse was brought from pasture and it ran to her, snorting and whinnying in recognition; Tarja was awed at the horses, standing at good three hands higher than the northern horses, but far more refined in build, with fiery natures, and legs like iron, all enjoying the breath of Djevon in their nostrils. Tarja immediately fell in love with them; she vowed she would own a beautiful companion for herself. Sanjina took her to the high desert mesa the next day and let her see her family’s wealth: A full 600 heads of desert bred horses, with a prize stallion simply called the Djevi after the prince of demons; her own stallion was a grandson of the said sire; he was a glossy roan with black points on the nose and hooves; Sanjina called him Dark Wind, as she had first tamed him to her hand and taken her first ride in the evening under the stars.

Suddenly Tarja’s heart longed for Tidus while gazing at the sight of the beautiful herd turning and wheeling under the deep blue sky; Sanjina, in tune with her friend’s heart, thoughtfully commented: “You know Tidus is half desert blood, his mother was from Zanarkand, 5 days ride from here, across the border. You should see her people! All gold and honey with Djevon’s eyes…just like him. I’m surprised he doesn’t ride a desert bred horse…Titania was reputed to be an exceptional rider, she must have taught him….Would you like to pick a horse for him?” She waited with a smile hidden, knowing the offer would be irresistible. Much to her surprise, Tarja burst into tears; between wiping tears off with a corner of her head veil and rocking her softly, Sanjina coaxed out the story of Tidus and the act of revenge at the house of the rising sun, and his turning away from her; Tarja felt certain she had really made a mess of things and he was put off, now disgusted at the thought of her now, She was going to resign from the guard when she got back, she was that ashamed.

Sanjina almost laughed as she said, “Oh I wouldn’t cry if I were you!” She kindly went on to explain : ”Spirean courtship is different than what you know, I think! Since you ‘backed him up’, as you said, well, it meant that you put him under your protection as his woman, you know…his _lady_! It’s considered an act of claiming him as potential mate for a pair off! You see, if you felt so strongly you should not let an insult done to him go, then, well…you must want him! And very much at that!” She giggled at the described scene of Tidus watching Tarja take apart an aristocrat a piece at a time and his imagined reaction upon hearing Tarja’s high court vernacular stake a long tooth of a claim in front of the whole of the house, then decided her captain had finally found his match; the giggles burst out as she hugged Tarja again and continued: ”Tarja, I am sure ‘beloved consort’ ‘consort mine’ was a bit of a shock to hear from a guard mate’s lips, but it’s not like it wasn’t wholly unexpected you know! He’s probably sitting there with his stomach in knots at why you didn’t declare yourself to him!”

“What’s declaring yourself?”

“You approach him in public, then you ask to speak to him...alone! Then you tell him how you feel, and give him a love-gift to start the courtship rituals!”

Tarja gulped and sighed, then quietly commented: ”What if he says no? Refuses me?“

“Tarja, that’s a risk we all take in matters of the heart; I don’t know if Djanis will accept my offer, but I’ll be damned if I won’t ask when the time comes. Look into your own heart – what are you afraid of? The word no? Does a no mean your world ends?” _Or is it a yes that you fear, little eagle? Desert blood like mine burns far hotter than the water of city blood; I see he’s branded you, too._ She looked earnestly into Tarja’s face and seeing her slowly shake her head, she gave her a little sisterly push with her shoulder and said:”Now, go back and knock at the gates of Eden; can’t you see they are standing wide open for someone like you?”

The sniffling ceased and they sat in silence for a bit, then a small still voice piped up with: “What do you think…what do you think of that bay, Sanjina? The smaller one, with the honey coat?”

Sanjina, delighted she had gotten through, clasped her hand and began a long discussion on the merits of her herd, and by the time the sun hit midday, two horses were picked: the honey bay Adana was hers, but Sanjina had steered her to another grandson of the Djevi, a spirited creature with the sleek blue-black coat of his forebear and a white star on his forehead, named Dark Star. He had been tamed by her eldest brother and was used to a man’s hand.

The wedding day was an intense experience; Tarja was hit full on with the passion for life the desert peoples had; she was a bit shocked at witnessing the joining ritual in the old way, but it was no worse than the first kura –mei. The families dutifully gathered in a circle and chanted the soaring sutra of the heart, but it was done politely, their eyes closed while they chanted and a drum beat drowned out any sounds of passion as the first consummation of the marriage took place in sight of witnesses. Then the wildest party broke out as the couple ran from the altar to their horse as cheers and blessings were called out. They returned a short time later, having done their traditional ride of sharing one horse; they bestowed their gifts upon each other, broke their first piece of bread and joined the feast with much ribald joking as tradition dictated. Desert hospitality shone through as the families warmly welcomed each other and their guests; a generous outpouring of gifts occurred as the meat was being taken off the spit and cut up onto enormous platters. The women were delighted at Tarja’s gifts, as she had brought not only the traditional gifts of tea and small treasure trove of city silver jewelry, but arrowheads in her own design she had cast at Harrissiman’s forge and sharpened herself to idle lonely hours. Sanjina’s sisters and aunts teasingly stole her city clothes a piece at a time, pretending to admire each item and eventually got her out of the hakama and into the long slit caftan, vest and 4 yard pants of dusty red gauze every desert woman wears; Sanjina had the brilliant idea after 4 cups of Rakesh that she would dress Tarja up as a desert girl on the ride back and she was sure Tidus would simply swoon at the sight of her; it never hurt to put a little desert back in a man, thinking of how Djanis might also swoon at the sight of her riding up after a week away; maybe she might get a little desert passion instead of poetry!

Dancing, drinking and wild stunts on horses continued through the night under the torchlight, then the couple rode to their tent and entered with the families again witnessing. Afterwards, in the bright morning everyone lazied about in the shade or at the oasis; even the horses were treated to the shade and cool water, as they loved their creatures like family. Sanjina groaned, as it had been a true desert party last night and she had not drunk the fiery liquor rakesh for over three years. The next day, they packed up and left loaded with a burden of genuine love and sense of hospitality; Sanjina had robed herself in her desert robes for the long ride back and made good on her idea to ensure Tarja dressed in desert robes also, so they looked like a pair, even down to the face drape.

It had been a long week for Djanis and Tidus, who missed their women, but in different ways; Djanis worried himself sick that Sanjina would be waylaid by bandits and kept checking the armory records to reassure himself she had enough arrows and an extra bowstring; he missed her burrowing warmth during the summer thunderstorms at night, praying to Djevon he could just hold her again and then distracted himself by planning a very private bath to welcome her and to take away the rigors of a two day ride through the southlands to the Eid, which got him worried all over again, so he nearly wore a path from the armory to the stables to the bath house.

Tidus did not worry; he knew perfectly well Tarja could take care of herself on the road, but he was lonely, howlingly so; in a foolish romantic mood, he began to have conversations in his head with her, starting in the morning where he greeted her while meditating in front of his Djevon, smiling at her imagined pleasure of the blue lotus he laid fresh there every day in his god’s hand; when he toasted his mates in the evening, a silent toast to her was spoken in his mind: _Tarja my darling one, my lady of the house of the rising sun_ ; silently wishing her the tenderest of goodnights when he dropped onto his bed; and all the time the words _beloved_ and _mine_ repeated themselves over and over in the back of his mind. _I can’t remember why I hesitated to come to you; and now I wonder where you are; do I ever cross your mind? Do you wake up reaching for me, as I do for you? If I listen hard enough, will I hear your footsteps down the hall to my room again?_

To keep the team engaged and Djanis from getting sick to his stomach, Tidus called for a cavalry practice with bow and arrow on a practice field just outside the city walls the day the pair were due back; they worked in the fresh air with pleasure, the sky a cloudless blue until the afternoon, when small clouds began to come in from the southwest, forecasting a thunderstorm. Somewhere between the light and dark patches merrily chasing each other on the great plains, a pair of riders wove in a wild gallop on the road towards them; soon a magnificent pair of desert horses came into view with red robed riders and swerved off the road in a thunder of hooves and dust; they galloped straight through the ragged line of men; one rose in his stirrups and started to shoot arrows, each landing in the center mark as he sped by, then came thundering back and playfully snatched Djanis’ katana stuck in the ground , leaning off the saddle almost sideways, whirled it playfully above the turbaned head and started a run at the practice posts for sword behind the men and mounts, swiftly sending pieces of rice mats flying. Djanis grinned, roared and hopped on his horse following at breakneck speed. The second desert horse and rider had caught up with the first and the pair wheeled, their mounts proudly arching their tails and snorting with pleasure at the play-time as they slowed and cantered to the captain of the guard of the shield. Djanis nearly fell off his horse as he skidded to a stop and gasped: ”You desert –bred hussy! Give me my sword back before I make your backside as red as those robes! “

“Be more alert, you city-bred wafter!” Sanjina’s lively face appeared from behind the desert turban and face drape, grinning in a cheeky smile. She made her mount, the one named Dark Star, arch his neck, prance and rear up a moment to show him off, bringing a look of outright envy on her captain’s face. _Good, he can’t resist! “_ Captain, reporting for duty, sir. We made it back before the rain. The gate guard told us where you were, so we rode here directly instead of to the guardhouse and back. “

“And welcomed back, Sanjina-san! You rode us down like Kwanshin herself! However, you should learn to ride with the reins wrapped around your waist, instead of flapping loose in the wind – you might get a handful of enemy swinging up in your face; shall I show you? “ “Oh, yes! That’s Zanarkand style, isn’t it? Ah! Here’s Tarja-san – I did her up desert –style too, isn’t it a fit?”

Tidus looked over, and his heart melted as he saw an image of his mother, who had ridden a honey bay come cantering up, the fierce creature curveting and tossing its head proudly as a red robed rider reined him in; her face was still covered, but in the late afternoon sun, the eyes held a glint of blue, and his whole stance softened at seeing a loving memory made live for a moment; he suddenly felt Djevon held him in his hand again and the smile was surprisingly warm for Tarja. Sanjina mentally congratulated herself on her cleverness and let Dark Star do a little dance in a circle in honor of it.

Tarja undid her face drape and also spoke: “Reporting for duty, Captain Tidus-san. Is there a duty to report to tonight?” Sanjina rolled her eyes in disgust; Dark Star caught her mood, and restlessly struck out a hoof.

Tidus floundered mentally and made up something: “There is, if you want it, Lady Tarja-san. I have an errand to run tonight after dinner and your blade at my back would be welcome. I...have to investigate a charge…so…”

Grinning, Sanjina bowed from the waist, saying cheerfully “Well, I’ll leave you two alone to discuss the details!” deserting Tarja who pled with her eyes not to, smirking as she trotted Dark Star over to greet her mates and flash another smile at Djanis.

“How..how does the lady? The mount is a superb choice; my mother had a honey bay like that when I was young; I am outright envious; I’ve forgotten how beautiful desert bred flesh can be…” he trailed off in silence, tongue-tied and wanting so badly to just take a gallop or wait for a private word instead of standing here on a field like a country clod with 10 pairs of eyes pretending not to look at them.

“I agree…desert bred flesh is beautiful;…so… tell me, which mount would you have, captain mine?” She looked up through her lashes with a flirtatious look of mercury blue that totally belied her formal tone. Of course, his ear caught the subtle emphasis on the word ‘mine’ tacked on the end of her question and he slowly blushed. Blushing suited him, as it threw the thick lashes into greater contrast and highlighted the flash of his eyes.

Tidus carefully looked over Tarja’s mount, cooling his burning face at his foolishly romantic interpretation at her comment, as he swore she said it just to tease him, he was half desert bred and the question of mine was looming large lately. He tried to ignore the rather obvious quiet that had descended on his mates, whom he thought were all laughing at him somehow, as it slowly dawned on him she was subtly asking which horse he’d want as a love-gift. He looked over at her, breathless and delightedly amazed at the princely gift; something of the romantic boy’s heart shone through his face, which now held a hope of a much anticipated dream: This woman felt deeply enough to declare herself and ask for him.

It was a hard choice; He loved the memory of his mother in Adana, but knew the creature was already spoiled to the hand of the rider; the smaller horse had the more fiery nature and Tidus knew he would run forever on legs of iron, but he saw the ears swivel back to the soft chirrup of his rider’s voice and push into the gloved hand scratching his favorite spot below the cross strap of the silver trimmed bridle. Regretfully, he pulled his gaze from the amber honey steed to assess the black.

He looked over at Sanjina’s mount, his eyes taking in the spirit of the creature and his dark beauty, which was as one of the mounts of the prince of darkness; with a smile he remembered the old tales his mother had told him in the long nights when his danna was away fighting wars. The powerful arch of the neck and delicate muzzle bespoke an excellent bloodline; he was spirited, yet capered lightly, as if humoring the pretty girl on his back, who had spoiled him outrageously with sweet dates and silver ornaments for his mane and tail which jingled with a pleasing sound when he galloped. Tidus decided and simply said: “The dark.”

“Good choice, sir. The black is a prince among horses. And I’d confess Adana and I are making friends already.”

She trilled in zagareet and Sanjina came back over, encouraging the regal horse through showy paces, showing how well trained and how beautiful this courting gift was; Dark Star shook his mane out and tossed his proudly as she coaxed him into bowing, then kneeling for dismount as she excitedly thought _This is IT! The legend of Tidus and Tarja begins tonight!_

She slid off the horse, tossed the reins over to hang and merrily commented as she ran back to Djanis: “I look forward to your lesson…tomorrow, captain!” Djanis was still grinning, as all the others on the team now were, as they swung on their mounts; then Sanjina leapt on the back of Djanis’ mount and all the guard galloped off back to the guardhouse, before the rain set in, leaving a polite space for the lady to make her declaration.

Once the field was empty, she slid off Adana and held a hand up; he took it and dismounted; she slowly took the reins of the black and placed them in his hands, silently clasping the honey gold hands around the leather. She finally spoke, but softly, hesitantly: “ Dark Star is his name; I hope you love him; he is of the line Djevi and is a worthy mount for a captain of the guard; he…is a good man, the best of men, one who taught me things I needed to learn.”

“Tidus-san? Would you walk a little with me?” He nodded and she started to walk through the grass, gathering her courage as she shyly kicked and scuffed through the green. She began to speak in the same quiet, hesitant voice, which told him she was still behind the wall she had built around herself:

“I…I think perhaps it’s time to converse about something we never have spoken of, and I hope you’ll hear me out before I leave. Things have been amiss between us ever since a certain night, I guess I simply want to set things to rights if I can. First: I apologize if what I did offended you. I can imagine after years of having unwanted affections forced on you, a Gai-jin staking a claim on you in a fight might not be your cup of tea, so to speak. Second: I have my resignation from the guard written, if the act was unacceptable; I can see where my presence now makes you uncomfortable. You need say nothing more.”

She began to search for it in her saddlebag but stopped puzzled, when he barred the way and slowly shook his head, crossing his arms. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back, just like the bastard of bastards he was and waited for her to go on, hiding a smile: _Ohhh no, Washiita, you gave me a courting gift and I deserve the honey of truth, not your excuses from Earth – come on, tell me._ She didn’t back down from the imperious glint in his eye and calmly went on, but now with a sincere ring that he recognized; she was truly speaking from the heart:

“Look. I know I was a righteous bitch when I took down Mariko that night…I made that crowd think I was a lady and you were under my protection…like I’d already claimed you – and I’m sure you’re upset that your name is now coupled to an offworlder. But I won’t try to excuse myself; I won’t lie, or pretend my motive: I did do it for love of you.”

_Proudly spoken and direct; I like this!_ Tidus thought; _Go on, my darling girl!_

“In a way, I do want to have you all to myself; you…you have no idea of the effect you have on everyone, men and women alike: You live your life in such an unashamed manner as you steadfastly listen to the voice of your Djevon; That kind of inner strength is what draws many, myself included. Something in us rings in answer when you call, we all want to draw closer; Can you blame any of us for wanting more than just idle play in a garden of love? Even the weaker souls who dash themselves to death on the rock of your soul? We see this incredible creature in front of us, we are intrigued, we want to spend much more fulfilling time in your company. “

“ But you see….I mean….I was selfish that night, I think: I was like a young recruit who wants to prove himself to his captain, I wanted everyone to know I would protect you with everything I had. Because I think you deserve to be valued. Your heart, your soul, the very core of who you are is the true gem of Djevon.”

Exultation poured into Tidus’ soul: _Djevon, I beg you for a cup of drink and you pour a river to quench my thirst!_

“But… I can’t keep you all to myself; I can’t keep something so beautiful a prisoner just because I played a lady to revenge a hurt. You belong to your world of warriors, courts, and aristocrats; you’re the crown prince of it all, and you need a princess at your side, you need the support of your kingdom. This world loves you, Tidus. But it may not, if you ignore its customs.” _…A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages…ok, here it goes: free him, let go._

“I…I had time to think in the Eid about the whole experience of being dropped here and finding myself thrown into your path more than once, I can’t help but think it was not just coincidence…..Look, don’t you see it? Fate, Karma, Djevon, whatever… brought us together for a reason - I was meant to meet you, and go through all this...it… planned for me to intervene….it was _ordained_ …”

_You’re damned right, my beauty, now shut up so he can kiss you!_ Djevon impatiently snorted through Adana’s nostrils.

“And…and when I finally thought that, it was like this great bell ringing in my mind …it had _resounded_ with a truth I could not deny; I realized it was just that simple. So, I stopped fighting it; we _were_ meant to meet…. But the hard truth is… being ordained to meet does not mean you are ordained to stay…and now, I think …perhaps my purpose is fulfilled; fate will move on and will take us apart.”

“ So…You…Tidus, I hope my sutra of control helped you be closer to Djevon; I hope your find your Eden…even if it isn’t me you are looking to for love. I’ll understand…if you don’t feel, don’t...love someone like me. I’ll understand if it’s time for me to go.“

She swallowed hard and simply spoke her heart at last, laying it on the altar, ready to be cut to pieces: ”I have brought myself to love you; the sutra of Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii will always be in my heart, no matter where in time or the universe I go. You can take it from a girl a 1,000 light years from home : You were worth it.” she paused with a painful intake of breath; her eyes suddenly welled with tears as it hit her she had fallen, and fallen hard.

It was the break Tidus was hoping for; he simply threw himself at her and stopped any further foolish declarations with kisses.

After a few blissful minutes, he firmly drew her head down on his shoulder and she meekly let it lay there as he savored the declaration for a moment more then gently but firmly gave his decision:

“Come home, my lady.”

Gulping and swallowing tears, she silently nodded and allowed herself to be handed up onto Dark Star; he mounted behind her and threw the reins of his bay over and grasped them, then yelped as his new mount took off like the wind; Adana galloped like fire next to him.

The dreamlike ride was one of the happiest moments of his life; he would always remember certain details: the swift mount between his legs pulsed with the rhythm of life; he saw the swift clouds scudding over the blue sky, the late afternoon light throwing the city walls in contrast, where his friends waited, he couldn’t wait to run into the courtyard, be surrounded by their hands and loving loyal hearts; he couldn’t wait to say she had declared, he had….a lady. Not just any lady, but a rare prize. He wished the ride would never end, he was happy as he was when he was a child, the red robes lifted in the wind and he almost laughed in happiness, remembering how his mother had come thundering at him, snatching him up from the ground, leaning sideways from her saddle in her red desert robes, then throwing him before her as he screamed in sheer delight at the wild ride; galloping like the wind safe in his mother’s arms, his father in the city walls waiting for him to run to him; but this time, it was he who was riding like a desert wind, safe and protected, but as man, with the strong heart that beat in the woman he held close against him. _Djevon, I exult! I praise you! I am loved!_

The guard at the gate whistled and cheered as the rider and horses went through the gate; he slowed as the traffic made anything than a slow canter impossible and it was near sunset when they finally reached the guardhouse; but true to their captain, the guard was waiting in the courtyard all pretending to have something to keep them busy until they saw how it went between them. A small cavalcade of three horses and two warriors , one held pillion by the other, came cantering in; they cheered as Tidus had hoped and teased them both as Tarja had hoped they wouldn’t, but she gave in as soon as she saw the kindly eyes; it was another glimpse into the Spirean experience; they approached the pair off with no shyness or hesitation, in their culture having a woman was like having a goddess Kwanshin to watch over them, a gold mine, an onna-bugeisha, a nunna, and a social grace beyond precious jewels. It was not just love, but power; they all knew that was the key to surviving; they needed a strong woman to complement their strong captain.

It took a good 5 thimbles of aki before they all calmed down and things fell back to normal; Tarja and Sanjina had begged off from being dragged out to any Inns or bars, as the long ride left them with the desire for just simple food, the good company of their mates and a hot bath before bed. They brought out things from their saddle rolls for the amusement of their mates, gifting them with things they found in their travels along the road and at the oasis of Hoseki. Sanjina was encouraged by Tarja speak of her family’s horses and Tarja praised the skills and discipline of the horsemen she had seen, practically begging to return; they laughed, as they all had felt the same bewitchment of the empty landscape of sky and sand; the wedding was described, then they laughed even harder at Sanjina’s imitation of Tarja’s reactions, first making pop-eyes, then hiding her face behind her hands, then peeping out, as if she couldn’t help herself when the antique joining ritual was started. “I swear it took her a double helping of rakesh before she could calm down!”

As their mates drifted off to other amusements to wind down the evening, Sanjina and Tarja finally got into their much anticipated bath, then slowly walked back in the dusk, arms around each other’s waists; Tarja took a breath, steadily walked Sanjina past her door, only to stop in front of Djanis’ door; She kissed her forehead then tenderly said: ”Go to him. Thank you from my heart for teaching me your sutra of courage. I found it in the Eid.” A pair of silver bracelets was slipped on a wrist, one for each of the secret lovers and she lightly tapped on Djanis’ door, running away, giggling as an arm shot out and pulled Sanjina in, muffling Sanjina’s yelp of delight in the best way possible.

She made her way back to the common room to get water, then wandered outside to the courtyard to feel the night breeze, picking up with the incoming thunderstorm, which she sniffed appreciatively. She was so happy to be back…it was home; the mellow amber light of the lamp in the great room threw its welcoming light on the worn stones so familiar beneath her feet, the rustle of the trees seemed to whisper in a friendly unknown language, reminding her of the summer nights as a child, where everything was right and good in her world, as she hung outside her front door just to savor that tender moment of anticipation of being in the perfect circle of love and goodness of her father’s arms before she went running in to him.

The Djevon seemed to grin at her, complicit, happy and hovering. She tilted her head, then patted his outstretched hand as a child would and quietly said, “My god has another name, but thank you… Thank you for giving me a home, and a chance at real love. I don’t know where this is going, but it feels right.” She knelt a moment, inhaling the remainder of incense and dying lotus bloom with pleasure and let the peace of the moment overtake her.

Tidus contently observed her, leaning on a column in the courtyard; he had decided to come to her earlier, but wanted the moment to be exactly right. Djevon now pushed him forward with a nudge of breeze on his back: _Go, now. Give me what is mine._

He also knelt, calmly waiting for her to finish whatever thought was in her mind; he tilted his head back and smiled at the stars caught between scudding clouds, recalling a wild prayer which had been answered the moment he had asked for it; never more did he feel like the favored son of his god than at this moment, so it was with complete confidence he placed his hand on hers and waited.

Tarja was deeply touched by the simple gesture and she tenderly leaned into the warm body; _I belong to you, you are my home, my love_ was her silent message; hands tenderly brushed her hair, then were touching her everywhere and before she knew it, the layers of fabric separating them were gone; she could only speak to him in terms of touch: kissing, caressing, limbs intertwining, only to urge him closer, fearless, eager, expressive; she felt herself laid back on the heavy stone altar as he entered her and gave her all the pleasure she’d been craving; as she lay there trembling after turning her head and biting her hand to stifle herself from crying out with the absolute pleasure, his fingers gently pulled the hand away from her mouth, and tenderly placed his own hand there; he hissed when she bit down later, but hung on until he decided it was time to throw her off into the heavens, then tearing his hand away, he flipped her and leaned back all the way, the stone now beneath his back as he tilted her face to the heavens with him and whispered of all the stars in the heavens Djevon chose the brightest one to fall into his heart; overwhelmed, her soul broke at the tender words, then she fell into the dizzying night.

She was caught in an eagle’s wings as she tumbled in the swelling winds of the approaching thunderstorm and she clung to him, her trust complete in the arms that wrapped around her and held her against the warmest skin; they were not a prison, but release, freedom….she was no longer defined by her clothes, her history, her mistakes; she was just breath, skin, pleasure…she was given so much pleasure of the senses that she grew faint, then something bloomed inside like strength, but deeper, a deep upwelling of unexplainable emotion - it wasn’t just a fire, it was an explosion, an implosion, where everything in sight was consumed in fiery white heat, yet contained in two bodies….she wanted to give everything, take everything, feel every last inch of the body she was holding, hold her lips on the living flesh, because when the dawn breaks, it will drift away like a dream in the night and be gone, all gone…she denied nothing to her Tidus, nothing was forbidden, customs, taboos, rules, all, all, no longer existed, because for this moment, this life, it meant she could still feel, live, breathe….

Dazed, she opened her eyes and saw the beautiful creature who had flown her to the heavens and dove through them with her, tenderly hanging over her with a faintly amused look sparked with fiery eyes, no scorn or disgust reflected there, only the tenderest love...exhilarated with this strange and extraordinary feeling, she tried to match every kiss, every caress with the all the intensity she had, …which, in turn, was returned exponentially, escalating, until the two of were grappling in a deathlock, biting, hair pulling, clawing, screaming, tears welling, until they both realize they’d gone beyond, way beyond anyplace they’d known…

Laying there on the altar, in the aftermath of the body bliss, she came to the stunning realization that she totally trusted this other person, this beautiful stranger to take her there and she’d go with him again, anytime, anyplace, anywhere. As the thunder rolled and lit the night skies with a dim flare of lightning, they started to quietly laugh, then started their play of passion all over again as raindrops warm as milk baptized them in front of Djevon; but this time they played with an outright primal abandon, uncluttered by any fear or shame. The fat rolling drops of the thunderstorm rapidly coagulated into a roaring downpour over them as they gave Djevon what was his in a stunningly passionate offering; the ten pairs of eyes that had quietly observed them from window ledges or quiet corners of the guardhouse now smiled and lifted their hands to the fecund heavens in gratitude. Djevon had blessed them, an outpouring of luck and love had come crashing in just like the thunderstorm breaking. The house now had a lady.

For six more weeks of summer and three weeks of fall plus one day did the halcyon of peace last in the guardhouse of the brotherhood of the shield. It fell in the simplest of ways.


	20. Chapter 20

As the summer passed to fall, Tidus slowly realized he was happy; and his hand taught team was happy. He began to feel hopeful as his father demanded his guard more and more, bringing them closer in the imperial circle; he felt the warmth of his father’s silent approval, then victorious, he was legally recognized again as Akiro’s son in the eye of the court the first day of fall.

A small party by the team had been planned for Tidus in two days when Harrissiman’s note arrived. Tarja practically squealed in delight, drawing a startled look from a few team mates sitting the great room; they saw her tuck the note into her Obi and run into the golden afternoon after breathlessly throwing over her shoulder “Don’t wait about for me! I have an errand in the south city – it’s important, you’re going to all love it! And don’t tell Tidus-san!” Impatient, she didn’t wait for her horse to be saddled and bribed the stable hand into letting her ride Tidus’ mount Dark Star; fretful, yet happy to be free, the black whinnied in recognition and gave his rider a good gallop, taking playful exception to a lumbering cart on the street in front of Harrissiman’s and prancing a bit at the smell of sparks, thinking he was about to be shod again, a process the creature tolerated only for the reward of a long gallop by his favorite rider, one straw headed creature with a pleasing voice and eyes that knew his language. Harrissiman proudly brought forth the prototype of the custom forged sword first, handing it over to her, his hands wrapped in a plain black cloth; she hesitantly took it in her hands , the dawn of her smile spreading through her body as the foundry courtyard faded away for a few moments; her first touch of Earth, now made real. The smiths idly looked up from their work or over their shoulders with a secret pride at the culmination of their work, pretending to not notice; they seldom gave approval, having seen the best and the worst of swordsmen come through and order blades; but none had one like this. They were precise craftsmen raised to the level of artists; to fashion a blade, the smith not only must possess great strength, but also patience, dexterity, and a refined eye to balance the limits of the raw materials with the beauty of the sword and give it a soul.

The blade had been forged from a single piece of ore, carbonized with rice stalk ash and astanga tree ash; normal steel was cast from scraps melted down and hammered only for the normal everyday sword on Spirea, with the military smithies only doing slightly better, using a uniform grade of ore hardened with wood ash carbon, folding the blade up to the auspicious number of twelve, hardening the edge with a standard formulation of clay and other ingredients and simply quenching the blade in a trough after a standard temperature requirement was met.

Tarja’s instructions had the smiths not only folding the steel in one direction, but two, and demanding the folding take place not 12 but 100 times. In addition a harder outer layer with more ash carbon was folded separately at first, then wrapped a softer inner core; the prototype edge was hardened by Harrissiman himself , with his senior craftsmen watching in the glowing forge to learn from the master.

It had been mounted in black ironwood, the anodized black finished hilt guard and matching ironwood scabbard bearing the simple elegant symbol of shirudo, the shield and wrapped in silk cord dyed the deep purple of the imperial house.

Harrissiman had the standard test posts set up in the courtyard and Tarja turned to them with confidence. On Earth just as much on Spirea, it was believed that the sword was the reflection of the swordsman’s soul, and thus it had to be tested to estimate its true abilities. She chose the simplest cutting technique, the Sayuw Kesa Giri:  Alternating downward diagonal cuts to the left and downward diagonal cuts to the right, the forward foot switching after each cut. The sword floated through almost as light as air, her restrained and dainty technique bringing a satisfied silence to the smithy; they had accepted her as skilled.

She handed the sword back to Harrissiman for a repolish and bowed deeply at him, holding her bow as if he were her master then delightedly skipped out after kindly requesting him to personally deliver the completed sword two days from now to her Captain, Tidus. She was given her own, handed up with same respect and it was slung over her other shoulder, bandit style . The remaining ten would be delivered when mounted with the same ironwood handle and shield sigil. And then she was gone, the black showily snorting and curvetting in happiness that it had escaped a shoeing, again.

The day may have been a cloudless day in the capital, but a storm of complaint and protest cascaded in the high court; one of the off world corporations had been informed with reliable witnesses that the imperial court had gai-jin in the hallowed halls meant for Spireans alone. It was considered a breach of treaty , flooding the imperial ear with immediate demands for concessions and their own representatives be allowed in their elite military. Akiro and Tidus had been verbally assaulted, and grimly they knew the source: a spy had either seen Tarja or someone within tipped them off; they blandly acted surprised and asked for facts, craftily finding out the source: The house of the rising sun had seen the guard there, and offworld entry had been granted for one Tarja Romanova. The blood test was witnessed and affadvits were waved in their faces. Akiro saw the fight to keep offworlders out of their lives now a lost battle and laid the imperial wrath on Tidus’ head in private. The little eagle had been useful and he frankly didn’t want to give her up to an offworld corporation. Mariko had one last tooth left to bite with and it had sank in deep. Akiro privately vowed he would pull her teeth himself if she was so stupid as to carry a private feud public again, then disgustedly had her sent from court and fined for not registering her formal apology in the temple.

The official answer given was they would investigate the matter; perhaps there was some mistake, as a guard had been disciplined before for trying to gain illegal entry. The ambassador flew into a fury, threatening to cancel contracts and place a sanction of Spirean trade, and then playing his trump card, threatened to expose the facts to the consortium of offworld colonies. In short, it was blackmail, a forced concession that was wanted.

In truth, Akiro did not want to lose the small advantage he had; he was learning so much from the little eagle that was helpful; he desperately wanted to make his country strong enough to hold out without being indebted to another offworld race; he considered it to be slavery to another master to sell his people out to a power that did not love them. His spies had not found a gate to Earth yet, and he just knew in his heart that Earth people were potential allies; Tarja was far more like the peoples of Spirea, and if Seymour’s theory was right, they were related as a race; he half wished Tarja would carry a child so he could know for sure. He could call on Earth for the technology that he so badly needed to keep the encroaching offworlders at bay. Hell, he’d even condoned that his beloved son keep her as his personal pet, he was that confident in her loyalty; he was surprised Tidus hadn’t filled her belly with a child yet, as his prized blood had been in her every chance he could get as the gossip had gleefully claimed. _At least he has become the man I was hoping he would come to be; if nothing else, I have her to thank for bringing that out in him. I wonder if she will claim that favor one day…._

He finally sent Tidus back to his guard and in a more kindly tone, told him it had been a difficult day; and by the next morning, they would have a better plan of action, even hiding the little eagle back in Seymours temple for a season if need be. He invited him back to talk later after dinner to work details out with the temple master.

A seething, frustrated Tidus found Tarja’s spot empty at the dinner table, and completely lost his temper when informed she had gone to the south city, and on his black, no less. He saw it as the ultimate betrayal, and despised her for running to Zander at his least invitation, after he’d fought so hard for her this day; his jealous rage escalated as he thought of all the times he’d given himself , exposed the deepest parts of his heart and soul to her in the private sutras of love they had learned together. His voice took on the poisonous tone they had heard when he was young and angry at Yu-Shinta; as Tarja came running in, he rose and simply backhanded her, the return stroke another stinging slap to her other cheek.   As she unsteadily regained her feet, shocked at the undeserved punishment, he coldly hissed: “I told you I’d throw you out if I caught you running to the Old Rose again; now go. Run. “

She hotly began to protest, her tone underlaid with puzzlement; ” The Old Rose Inn?..Who on Earth would I? –“ but he savagely grabbed her throat, shoved her to the wall and drove his tanto home a moment after. Thankfully, he was so unbalanced the blade missed her and just skewered the heavy gi to the wall at the shoulder, but it left her pinned. He spat in her face and yanked the shield sigil off her throat and ground the jade to fragments under his boot and coolly turned away, his steps echoing down the hall in the silence of the room, leaving 10 pairs of shocked eyes staring at Tarja.

Jingo slowly turned away, followed by five quiet shadows, then just as slowly, Iwami, and Akana, leaving Sanjina and Djanis, who looked at each other and then ran forward to help her, tears running down her face in pain. Puzzled, they began to doubt their captain’s judgement as they had noted the puzzled tone in Tarja’s voice when Tidus had said she was at the Old Rose Inn. It wasn’t the behavior of a liar. She hadn’t even tried to defend her herself, or beg, or draw a blade – they knew she was 10 times better than Tidus at the blade and would not hesitate, so it just didn’t make sense.

They helped her outside and quietly offered their love and what little help within their power; she had protected them, covering the tracks of their secret pairing off and the loyalty was underlaid with a deep sense of truth; Tarja had not been running to Zander at the Old Rose Inn. She had been somewhere, but not there. And not with another man. For Tarja, no other man existed but Tidus, the bastard of bastards.

She hung her head, and finally said: “It was supposed to be a surprise for him – for all of you. Now it’s all wrecked. He never trusted me. Never. I give up. I’ll never be in his heart. I’m just another gai-jin. An offworlder. “ Sighing, she took off the military issue sword and asked them to get her whatever money she had in her room and clothes that were not a guard uniform. She would leave the place as she came. She kissed Sanjina, lingering as part of her heart broke at leaving a younger sister she had just begun to love and then Djanis as the brother she looked up to and sadly smiled, saying: ” I expect to hear the legend of Sanjina and Djanis one day. Think of me when you pray to your Djevon. Don’t expect Tidus to be kind to you for a while, but it will pass.” Biting her lip and swallowing tears she added a soft comment: “The son of my god said once: Let the first without sin cast the first stone. I will, never, never forget you for not stoning me, I guess you may be sinners just like me. Apparently Tidus is not.”

She left the palace, disdaining any looks or offers of help, as many had noticed the bruised face and distraught look in her eyes; the news she had been expelled from the guard was slow in coming, but when it reached the palace proper, it caused a backlash of ill-feeling towards the current politics of the current regime, which was considered too harsh and insular; many had lost lovers, husbands, wives, their precious children to the guard and its unbending rules. Service offered with good hearts had been denied due to being half offworld blood; feuds between families and offworlders had occurred over traditions each held dear; the city had been a bloodbath 6 years ago over a doomed romance of an offworld boy and a spirean girl; both had killed themselves after a secret marriage had been exposed.

A storm of gossip broke out over Tarja’s dismissal. Some argued hotly that an offworlder should never be trusted and she got what she deserved; the women began to side against the men, affronted that a woman had been dismissed withouttrial or at least a hearing, why should they be forced to sign their service agreement with the terms ‘at will?’ when they were expected to give their very lives?; the troubled half breeds gathered at the guardhouse gate and began to protest for recognition of their rights, pelting the guards with dead fish heads; others were even puzzled that she was an offworlder, because she was exactly like them, no funny limbs, no odd coloring, and civilized as they were inside.

Tidus’s cold report that Tarja had been expelled from the guard at sunset was met with a puzzled stare from Seymour and Akiro; they felt the undercurrent of ill-will rising, but shrugged it off, as the dismissal solved their problem in a neat way; they could always reinstate her later. The Imperial voice would officially report a member of the shield guard had used horse’s blood to pass the offworlder test and gained entry into the House of the Rising Sun illegally. The charges were pressed and the guard dismissed without honor. The imperial court would appease the House with a doubled standard fine. The name: Tarja Romanova from the Izumi province.

Tidus walked back into the common guard room and was steadfastly ignored by his crew, whom were all aghast as his mental snap in judgment and anxiously wanted to avoid his white hot wrath pouring on their heads. They had concluded she did go to the temple bar, since she said south city, but wondered why she’d see a mere consort in the middle of the day, especially after she declared herself to Tidus. It looked bad, but they thought his reaction was extreme; he was a captain, not a jealous lover. The lady deserved at least a hearing before dismissal. He managed a command for council and told them Tarja was dismissed, and on pain of themselves being dismissed, not to accept contact from her. He gave them the official reasons and warned them to stick to their story, or he’d be unable to help them. Then they drifted away one by one, melting into the shadows as his sat there in his chair, chasing demons thrown by the tanto stuck in the wall.

Only when he was sure he was completely alone, did he pick up the wrinkled Obi and let the hot tears drip into it as he threw himself onto his hatefully empty cold bed, weeping wildly as the 12 year old boy who had been locked out of the heaven of love he knew.

On Tidus’ party day, a Master Smith in his best hakama walked up to the palace and made his way to the shields guard house. The manservant welcomed him as an old friend, remembering their drinking days together, when Harrissiman was an apprentice in the imperial smithy. He was sadly informed that Tarja Romanova had been dismissed for playing an offworlder. Harrissiman frowned at the lie, as he knew she had to have been truly from another planet than Spirea; the plans she drew were not any Spirean mindset, and marked with her own version of mathematics. There was no way any local could have come up with the precise metallurgic terms she had, no instrumentation had been built yet, much less theorized.

He begged to see the captain to personally present the gift, and was informed after 10 minutes wait he was refused with kindness. _HAH! I bet he’s still in a snit for losing his head and now too ashamed to admit he threw away the best damn weapon he’d ever put his weapon into!_ Harrissiman silently smirked, remembering the rare mountain jade eyes. Shrugging, but an honorable man, he handed over the precious sword, stating to handle with the greatest of care, it was a custom blade from his shop that the lady had ordered for her captain, and urged his friend to have the captain see him ; the blade testing he had witnessed was close to the likes of Djevon throwing thunderbolts and this weapon must be seen before handling! He scribbled a note and left the sword on the table. The note blew off in the autumn wind, leaving an unmarked sword which looked like carelessness to Tidus’ eyes when they returned from the uncomfortably stilted affair, filled with too much alcohol and forced gaiety.

The sword was simply thrown into the weapons racks in the common dojo and went ignored for a full two days, until Djanis was late for practice; he had been secretly sharing his bed with Sanjina and had to quickly dispose of the evidence himself in the laundry before his mates caught him, or Djevon forbid, the captain. All the good swords were taken when he arrived panting, and he simply snatched the blade up without even giving it more than a cursory glance, pushing it in his obi as he ran and slid in at the end of the line on the mat.

They paired off and soon were into their kata to strengthen the wrists; he was surprised at how light it felt and soon was grinning at how well he had held up during the kata without his wrist aching from the weight of the katana. Then the rondori started, one on one; after Iwami and Hino had delivered pleasing spat with a nicely placed defense, he was shoved in the ring with his silver haired darling; they loved sword play and soon were going at it like a lover’s spat; Djanis felt good and decided to pull a Tarja trick with a light jump on a bench then launching himself off, did a fairly strong overhand strike on Sanjina’s blade. His blade rang with a sharper sound that somehow made his instincts cringe and horrified, he saw the blade spark, then cut through Sanjina’s military issue blade like butter, then continue down, gently brushing her right sleeve as the stroke completed.

Sanjina’s eyes dilated in shock as she stared at him with a broken blade, understanding she had missed death by inches. Relieved after a moment of adrenaline, Djanis and Sanjina smiled; she began to swing her arm and humorously waggle the broken blade to tease him, but stopped when his face turned white as a sheet. She felt an uncomfortable prickle on her arm, looked down and her world tilted out of control as she saw her sleeve now had a wide stripe of bright red. Djanis forgot everything but Sanjina and ran forward, picked her up and bellowed at the top of his lungs for a doctor, as he hacked off his gi sleeves to stanch the bleeding until someone could get to them.

“There, there, now my pet, it’s the nock arm, not your bow arm; come let the doctor set it to rights; oh Djevon, my darling, don’t cry, it’ll be alright, you must be brave, you’re my archer, our goddess Kwanshin to watch over us poor stupid swordsmen, don’t you dare leave us…” he kept quietly talking to her as they laid her down on the common room table and let the doctor get to work. Djanis steadily kept her slim hand clasped in his large strong hands until the stitches were set, then carefully carried her to her bed and kicked the door shut careless of what any of his mates thought for once in his Djevon-cursed life.

Meanwhile, at an empty table in the long evening, the sword winked its one good eye at Jingo as he sat there staring back at it unblinking, spinning his tanto one handed between cups of Aki, as if to say to him: _Djevon gave you something like me once, yes? Where is my mate? Where is she? Where? Where? _

Thunk. Pause. Thunk. Pause. Thunk.

Tidus opened his eyes blearily cursing the maddening rhythm that broke his sleep. It was well after midnight, the guardhouse cool enough for a gi over a bare torso. He padded down the hall, surprised at the number of other insomniacs also walking about. The sound grew louder as they approached the common room and upon entering they saw Jingo sitting in his chair, half hidden in the darkness, throwing his tanto at a piece of paper on the table over and over. His affable monkey’s face was now a lean whiplash, the brow cocked , the narrow lips pressed into a firm line and his dark eyes held a sardonic fire.

They knew that look and knew it was going to be a long night; the last time he was in this mood they had to tie him up for the night until his blood thirst for a man had subsided. Tidus sat on the edge of the table and asked: ”What’s up, mate? Been drinking?”

All trace of his chittering tenor gone, he replied in a frosty brittle voice: “I’ll tell you what’s up, captain mine and no, Jingo has NOT been bloody well drinking. Jingo will no longer drink, he will not be taking joy for quite a while.” Pointing his tanto at the sword on the table he further enlightened them: “Do you have any idea what this is, mate? Any of you? And if you say sword, I’ll take you outside and take your limbs off with it, one at a time. “

He stabbed his tanto back in the table to emphasize his point and breathed with a fanatical blaze in his eyes that began to frighten them: ”This….is….a… _weapon._ ”

Puzzled, they shook their heads at him. Suddenly, he grabbed a sketchbook off the litter of paper on the table, flipped the pages then read to them: “ The ore should be hardened with a high acid ash, add no more than 1 part to seven to the weight of the ore to produce the necessary crystallization of the molecular structure. This portion should be hammered and annealed at 750 degrees shinonagi measure, folding 100 times in sets of ten.” More pages were flipped: “Take extreme care when hardening the edge; As the temperature rises, crystal structures within the metal begin to change. Observe the color of the glowing blade with the eye, not a thermometer. The blade should be quenched in a trough of water as near freezing as possible to cool the blade quickly, because at the critical temperature, the structure of steel changes to austenite, a phase where carbon thoroughly combines with iron. When the blade is quickly cooled by quenching, austenite changes to martensite, the hardest type of steel known. “

Jingo’s voice rising in a slow hysteria stabbed their ears with uncomfortable truths that had been spinning in his mind all night: “ Djevon, I am such a fool, I was so wrong I want to slit my throat in seppuku – don’t you see it? This isn’t any ordinary sword. No one, NO ONE ( shouted) has even tried this before on this forsaken bit of rock spinning in space! We’re just …just children playing at war compared to this! She was way beyond us from the beginning! She was the weapon, our weapon, our sword, dropped into our laps by Djevon himself! And what do we children do? We try to make her into a shield! I am so sick I could puke at my own arrogance!”

“She knew what we were up against, she knew the weapons the offworlders have to use on us! She wanted to give us a weapon, a REAL weapon from her world, mates, and she did it!….and lucky us, she did it for love of us.”

“So, Jingo no longer drinks, Jingo no longer plays. I hope you’re ready for the shit that’s coming down from the heavens, because all we have is just our damned honor and our toy swords to rattle at the offworlders. And we just threw away our deadliest weapon.”

Tidus was a stone, then slowly replied: “I…see your point, mate. I…assume ‘she’ is Tarja Romanova. But what proof do you have she did it for us? For all we know she could have been a mercenary and selling Earth technology to the highest bidder.”

A trace of the old Jingo appeared in the lean patrician face, crafty and clever; then he struck a match and lit the lamps on the walls, throwing the bits of paper spread on the table into illumination.

Everyone’s heart stopped as faces appeared on the paper…their faces…the table was covered with pages cut from Tarja’s sketchbooks; charcoals, watercolors, brush and ink work all composed with a fine detailed hand, beautifully drawn portaits of everyone in the guard of the shield; their faces all gazed back at them serenely, drawn in studies of rest, leaping in practice, posed in sword movements or in moments of time that clearly indicated a tender turn of heart; there was Jingo, his lean frame and dark eyes suddenly seeming elegant as a duke; A sweet scene of Djanis and Sanjina holding the same pose with their katanas; Akana was drawn with the naginata, calm as a rock in the middle of a battle scene; Iwami , Hino, Tidus, Dai, Takeshi, Hirokoh, Jun-Tai, all of them captured by Tarja’s loving hand.

There were books of sketches, writing and calculations ; simple things re-engineered with Earth technology, wheels, cloth, arrow points, flexible armor made of cunning rings linked together, arched footsoles for their boots that followed the curve of the foot to prevent fatigue; laws of Earth warfare, with the name SunTzu quoted; simple weapons like small cannon that could be balanced on a shoulder to shoot explosives, a lightweight bow that was smaller, but with a curious arrangement of pulleys to gain speed and force to penetrate their forged armor plates; a plan for a simple hydroelectric power source rigged from one of their water wheels, notes about fireworks with lists of formulas for chemicals that they knew nothing of; a book of exercises for the sword had been started, there were sketches of star maps and landscapes they’d never seen drawn from her memory of Earth. It was a stunning revelation to all of them; Jingo was right: She was way beyond them.

Jingo tossed a sheaf of notes at Tidus: ”Here, her correspondence with the foundry. Harrissiman’s. In the south city sector.” _Next to temple bar, you damn jealous lovesick fool. Now go get her back for us. Before we all die before we’ve had a chance to live._ _I’m not dying with an offworld boot on my neck._

Incredulous, Tidus read through the notes, mostly answers to the smith’s technical questions and reports that surprised him; his misconceptions of Tarja burnt up in the fire of shame in his heart – She had an arsenal of knowledge packed in that brain of hers, ideas that would change the face of war on this world. They didn’t need a treaty with any offworld corporation – all they needed was in her head! And she had done it, unasked, no negotiating, no contract. The ice in his heart melted and they saw his eyes well with unshed tears as he read the words out loud: “Please duplicate the prototype for a team of twelve guards, the best I know and love.”

“Jingo, you are forbidden to commit seppuku – because I’m going to need you as a second to my seppuku in the morning.” He wearily shut his eyes and commanded: ”Disperse. Get some sleep. We have weapons to test tomorrow.”

Jingo gripped his shoulder tenderly as he passed by softly saying: ”Get some sleep yourself. I’ll murder you in the morning, mate.”

The sword lay there in the dark unwinking: _Ah. Come to me, sister. I long for your hand._

 


	21. Chapter 21

The cool night blew leaves across Tarja’s path as she steadily walked through the streets of the capital; the fresh weal in her heart welled as strode along determined not to turn back; she felt lost as a child, then bitter as she berated herself for even letting herself go this far with Tidus. She wanted to go home; she wanted warm arms to run into, to pick her up and carry her to a warm nest and kiss all the hurts away until sleep came; then everything would be all right in the clean blue skies of morning. _But it’s not my world, I’ve just pissed off the son of the most powerful man in the continent – I should be putting the capital in my rearview mirror before someone slits my throat…If looks could kill, I’d have left in a basket!_ She sat at the bar at the Inn the guard frequented, idly spinning a cup around, trying to think of where to go, and who she could trust, until she heard the gossip about her dismissal and the subsequent protest-turned riot at the guardhouse gate by the half bloods. Frightened she would be lynched, or worse, she left quickly, drawing her hood about her face, and headed to the south gate to leave the capital. She’d have a better chance at a horse tomorrow, and planned to ride north, hide out at Lord Seymour’s for a day or two under Nakita’s wing, then see if she could make it to the south border of the Eid before winter hit. At least she’d be out of the country. She had decided to stay away from the offworld docks, as she knew she’d be in trouble there, too. They’d use her ruthlessly in their negotiations with Spirea or worse, take her away and leave her to rot in another world. A rain came, spattering the street and her temple cloak with cold bullets of water that soon turned into a thick downpour. She soon became a drowned rat and looked for any shelter, running for a red light at the end of the street; she silently offered her silver piece at the door and was welcomed to the Inn of the Last Toast.

It was warm, smoky and crowded, a sweet acrid cloud hung over the patrons, mix of incense, stale wine, poppy seed being vaporized, tobacco and a dozen violently clashing perfumes , underlaid with a reek of corruption that did not bode well in her mind. She pushed her way to a bar and had a thimble of Aki poured to chase the chill. She was hungry, too, but a place like this would not have food. It was owned by a Tong, a dealt with drugs, gambling, liquor and the bed slave trade. Tarja kept her eyes lowered, as she knew she’d get unwanted attention, and didn’t want to have a tong chasing her on top on the imperial guard and capital police; she was to have left by sunset, and here she was, in a Tong bar by the gate until dawn. she made up her mind to just stay in a corner and wait out the rain, then bribe her way out of the gate.

Zander the consort had just left the gaming hell, after watching a patron win a high stakes game of the bones and well gifted, he was going to reward himself with a drink and leave , provided the rain slacked off; He idly noted the temple cloak, which puzzled him; monks usually didn’t frequent gaming hells. Curious, he drifted over and noticed a creamy brown hand clutching a thimble of Aki rather tightly; he laughed to himself, then let the smile fade from his face as a memory clicked into place next to the current mental portrait of the nervous hand and drink. _Oh my Djevon, is it HER? Then the rumor IS true!_

At first , he was concerned for her, then ever the guttersnipe, he thought of how it could be to his advantage. He wasn’t evil, just an opportunist. Besides, the bastard had tweaked his nose; Zander knew he was a fool to have cast aside such a jewel of Djevon – he wasn’t picky, she was delicious and had tasted sweet in the kura-mei. He’d take her to his nest for a day or two and let the lovestruck idiot run around the city looking for her and then, he’d negotiate her whereabouts for a nice fat bribe. He’d even make him say please.

“How is it a desert rose still blooms in this damned chill?” He playfully asked. “Oh? How is it a honeybee can smell a dead rose in here?” was the dry answer. Zander was silent, smiling, and reached a hand in the hood to softly caress her face, gently raising her chin to his view, the smile faded as he saw the swelling bruise on her right cheek and a slow disgust overtook his pretty face. “Damn him.” His voice shook.” I’ll poison his Aki the next time that bastard raises his jade cup to me.” Zander’s mood abruptly changed; he hated abuse, especially of beautiful things; so he simply said: “Come with me. you can stay, no questions asked. No price. But my bed is yours, should you need a pair of warm arms.” She stood hesitant, then whispered: “You’ll get arrested. I was supposed to have left the city gates by closing bell.” “Oh, equine feces, girl. You were expelled from the guard, not the city. I’ll wager he’s getting his ass chewed by the old dragon right now for letting you out of his sight. Now please, let me call a jekka.”

Zander’s private rooms were part of the Inn of a 1,000 doors, on the top floor, where he had a fine view of the city lights and a rooftop terrace, lit with torches for parties. It was quite luxurious for an inn and soon Zander had Tarja wrapped in a soft cotton kimono near a warm fire and was carefully compressing her cheek with rags soaked in cold water and his own blend of painkiller, called the honey. He was rather talented at healing, since the temple bar district attracted its share of pain loving patrons, and few doctors would come after hours for fear of the tongs or worse, getting diseased themselves. So he learned the hard way, writing his own recipes, patiently stitching up the split lips of doormen and tending pretty women who weren’t so pretty after a rough patron. When her head began to droop, he picked Tarja up and carried her to his bed, oddly plain for someone so scandalous; later Tarja found out he used one bed for play and the other for sleeping. She neither cried nor became hysterical, and just accepted his arms, glad to rest sheltered from the cold and storm beating against the window. As she drifted into sleep, Zander was surprised; she had not murmured Tidus’ name even once.

_Damn, she feels good. No wonder the bastard was jealous as hell._ He sighed, pulling her close and wondered why his life was tangled up with the imperial house. Maybe he could get a ticket to an island with the imperial bribe and leave it all behind. Maybe she’d stay a while. He reached over and pinched out the candle flame and just as quickly let his mind shut down for a long night in a warm bed with a nice armful of girl.

Dawn broke sweet and clear, the bed was soft and the bronzed figure with a golden mane was sufficiently like Tidus to fool Tarja for a moment, thinking it was all a bad dream; but her face reminded her it was day, as it was turning a nice black and blue from Tidus’ backhand delivered with an unerring accuracy. She shrugged and put more of Zander’s honey on it, then stretched in her usual sun saluations. When she was finished, Zander was sitting cross legged on the table, calmly watching her, his chin in his hands. “You move beautifully, you know, when you think no one’s watching. You dance, don’t you? I heard you did a kura-mei with Narsen that was exquisite; I could get you presented; the court in Zanarkand would welcome you, then you could play swords if that’s what you wish; or just be Tarja…life here doesn’t always have to be all duty and obedience to the imperial hand, you know?   It can be quite pleasurable, Tarja.”

He slowly smiled, his easy charm was infectious and Tarja found herself smiling back at his charm. “ We have a saying on Earth, sir: Take it a day at a time. Which is exactly what I’m going to do. You know what? Maybe I should take a vacation from life, at least for today.”

She lazed in the bath, got a massage andhad one of the innumerable errand boys at the inn buy her travelling clothes; she regretted not taking her sweet honey bay Adana last night, but thought if she went back for him, she’d be jailed or worse. She hoped Sanjina would somehow take care of him. Maybe if she made it to the Eid, she could get another. She prayed Tidus would not beat Dark Star and feeling like a whipped horse herself, she began to cry, thinking of how she’d been turned out without a chance to defend herself, judgment instantly given. She wished Harrissiman would deliver the blade and see Tidus break into tears once he found out the truth. She fantasized Tidus wildly searching the city for his lost lady Tarja with a perfect sword that fit only her hand; then almost wildly , she laughed bitterly as she realized the stupidity of her fantasy.   _Why am I wishing he’ll come for me? He turned me out! How will I live each day after this? Will I ever wake up and not long for the sun of presence? Oh yeah. Take it one day at a time. One hour. One minute. One second. Oh god, Jingo…Iwami…Akana…Seymour….I am so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye…Maybe I’ll leave a message at a temple once I am away. Djevon, I know you have little cause to love me, I’m no child of yours, but please, please, if you’re really there, help me.”_

She watched the sun lower in the sky, the dust settling in layers over the city like a falling veil and felt so very empty inside. _Why is love so difficult? Why is my heart broken, my body bruised while he is free to roam with no thought of the consequence of his actions? Why was I judged and punished without a fair trial? I thought women had power here, but it seems imperial blood trumps all. I need to get the hell away. Go to the Eid, girl. Disappear, start over. Nobody really gives a shit about an offworlder who plays at being a lady. They just needed a weapon to keep the offworlders off their back. Now they’ve got Tidus. And 12 swords…You know, I need to make that 11. I have a right to something of my world._ Sighing, she sent another boy pelting to Harrissiman’s with a note.

Zander came back at dusk, and a servant from downstairs followed him with a tray of food and tea, which finally tempted her enough to eat; he took the night off from his patrons to take her out and away to take her mind off her troubles; a small bar deep in a crowded block that no temple guard would be caught dead in provided music and cheerful bartender, with only off duty consorts or courtesans as patrons; Zander let them all think Tarja had been roughed up by a patron or jealous boyfriend, and soon she was able to let go of the hurt done to her face and even cracked a joke before the evening was over.

They discussed what possibilities she had on Spirea; a ride to the Eid was planned, with a stop at Hoseki for a day, then onto Zanarkand in a caravan, where Zander’s family would be invaded and they would get her introduced to court. He kindly but bluntly asked her how deep were her pockets, she whispered a figure which was the sum of gold, coins and jewelry she had and then groaned at the thought of her letters of marque from the imperial treasury , now worthless– she couldn’t redeem them now, they would jail her if she showed her face on palace grounds. Then with a chuckle, he informed her she was entitled to her money and would get it – all she had to do is legally assign a proxy. With a grin, he informed her: ”The treasury clerk on the evening shift owes me favor. I think I could endure another evening of his fat belly pushing into me for a friend…and a bit of honey in return, girl.” “Flirt. Exactly how dark do you want your honey, little bee?” “Oh.Well. I never knew you were so easy, or I’d have tried for you that first night, and be damned to that bastard’s scowl. Whatever you’d care to give. At least play like you’re my girl for a bit, a love-gift or two and I wouldn’t say no to a private kura-mei if you’re ever in the mood.”

“Oh! Now I see how you are – You had your chance at a kura-mei, but you handed me off to an imperial brat and got yourself a tongue full of honey already, clever bee. The rest I gratefully give. Deal?”

“Deal!” They clinked sake cups and linked their arms in the traditional trade agreement , swallowing the shot and sat back, each suddenly thinking life wasn’t such a disaster after all. The ease in Tarja’s soul only lasted as long as the buzz of the alcohol and later in the dark of the cool autumn night, Tarja’s heart laid its wrongs before her and begged for a return to the golden memory of the summer days where it had been well fed with a silent adoration of a man’s love; she let tears trickle as she grimly told her heart: _Enough._ _No more._ She pled, she bargained, she begged, but it would not listen, stubbornly insisting on its own way; _the heart wants what the heart wants_ , it told her. _Go back. Beg, crawl, lick the floor. I want what is mine._

In desperation, she turned to the form of what was like, but not like, and drowned the quiet pleas in blue eyes, blonde hair anda golden brown body that was skilled and slim, but afterwards the heart would still not be silent: _The heart wants what the heart wants. I want what is mine._

 


	22. Chapter 22

The shield guard arrived at Harrissiman’s en masse, a proud sight, Tidus’ black anxiously snorting and whinnying, thinking it was going to be reshod again and wanted no part of it today. Tidus absentmindedly soothed it until the one of the innumerable little boys employed at the foundry ran up and coaxed the glorious creature back to the common stall with friendly clicks and chirps. Harrissiman had the good manners to not leave his imperial guest waiting long, despite the small rudeness 3 days ago; Tidus made up for it in plenty, and as soon as Harrissiman saw Tidus’ reddened eyes, he felt a small spasm of satisfaction: _About time you came to your senses, boy._

The blades were brought forward after Harrissiman expounded for a full 15 minutes on the new technology the little eagle had brought him; he wanted them to know that his fee was earned fairly and wished to ensure he would be the only one with an imperial contract in the capital for the new steel. The guard was impressed, the blades were light, yet supple; strong enough to cut through a test post thick as a man’s torso, yet sharp enough to divide a silk scarf floating down.

While the rest of guard was practicing cuts in the yard, Tidus quietly asked if the little eagle had been to the foundry; Harrissiman truthfully told him the last time she’d been there was 4 days ago and called a boy to bring his correspondence, but Tidus stopped him and sighed, the disappointment clear on his face. He humbly apologized for not seeing the smith, and asked that he, Harrissiman give the little eagle a message if he ever saw her: _Come home, my lady._

Harrissiman’s wry grin appeared after the cavalcade galloped away; he had ended up liking the young captain, seeing he was not altogether the arrogant bastard he had heard of; he was just young and passionate, the love he had for his team and a certain jade eyed lady was obvious; he turned and roared at the smiths to stoke the fires, they were going drinking tonight! A contract had been negotiated.

Tidus carefully searched the city that afternoon until dusk, but Tarja was nowhere to be found, much less seen. The closest he got was the Inn of the Last Toast, where a bartender recalled the temple cloak, but erred in memory and told him she’d left for the gate between midnight and dawn. Dismayed, he returned to the guardhouse and stared at the silk obi on the bedpost before falling asleep, his hand softly stroking it over and over as his mind turned in somersaults: _Where are you? How could I let this happen? Where are you?_

The sword, now ensconced on its stand cast it shadow across the floor, as if searching : _Sister mine, where are you? we long for your hand._

Hoseki was lovely, the warmth in the air a welcome relief to the chill in the air by the river of the capital; as Zander was the weaker rider, it took them 3 days instead of 2 to travel the great south road. Fountains played, and scented jasmine still bloomed against the bright blue sky, despite the season of autumn. Tarja felt better away from the city, but still oddly hollow. She went through the motions, but there was always a silent core that she kept hidden.

They tried to fill the brooding silence in her soul with a dinner of grilled lamb with dates and honey in a well known inn, set to the gentle harps of the nomads; she was just starting to feel a quiet flow of gratitude towards the slim consort, who underneath his jaded attitude had a streak of compassion; so it was with genuine affection she reached for his hand and thanked him warmly for putting up with her mood. “After all, when you’ve had the bastard of bastards in your face, you’d need a day or two to catch your breath, Zander! “ she laughed. “I’d never hit you, even if you begged me, lady! Now, let me get you to try some nattsu – nuts baked in honey and spice- didn’t they serve it at the wedding?” He tenderly laid her back on the pillows and fed it to her, even teasingly getting her to accept one in his teeth, then sweetly kissing her, a typical desert lover’s trick to get a woman to play.

Eyes behind a slitted black desert veil glittered and teeth ground at the pretty scene across the little outdoor courtyard, as the man was like another; a hand itched to carve the pretty face just because it was like. There would be time later to play with the consort; he was a mouse; it was the eagle that held the observer’s interest. She subtly waved a hand towards them and a pair of women nodded and detached themselves from the ring of servants surrounding the private tent and drifted towards the happy pair off, idly flirting in the lamplight.

An invitation was given and it was commanded more than hinted than desert hospitality was not to be refused. Tarja felt a prickle of danger and intensely looked at Zander, then whispered: “You stay close to the door; play the drunken wafter and go get more rakesh if I tap your foot, then once away, take all I own and run like hell, lover. I smell a honey-trap.”

The tent was hospitable, the wine red thunder, the hostess gracious; she kept herself veiled, which Tarja felt uncomfortable with at first, but the woman’s charming voice lulled her into feeling secure. Zander was the one who kept a careful watch on her; something about the voice was familiar and he knew he’d heard it before. As the hour grew late, she drew her chair closer and said: “Let me tell you a story; perhaps it may ring upon your ear with some familiarity. Once…Things were not thus as you see them tonight– I know you see a weathered spear of a woman before you, etched from the desert sands. I was once young, beautiful and the pride of my family. I was obedient to my mother, I adored my father, so it was no hardship to obey them and join where I was bid. It was an arranged match, but I was unafraid as I heard the women talk of my pair; I knew I would love him even before I had seen his face. When we did meet, I was the sun to his moon, the shield to his sword. He was a man among men, and fought in the wars to keep the country from being divided; it was the time where the offworlders were beginning to make their presence felt; they tried so hard to influence the politics, so they were eventually banned from the capital…..” She sighed and swirled the silver goblet of wine before sipping to wet her throat before continuing on: “ That was the beginning of the silence between us; I saw the worth of using the offworlders - there is potential for all life, no matter where it comes from; we as Spireans are woefully primitive compared to some worlds. My beloved did not think the same and fought me until he turned away one day and refused to share our bed. He wanted the offworlders to go, leave us alone to wallow in our primitive culture, no weapons, no medicines, nothing. He said there was no honor in them, imagine! I said: what do you expect? An alien species that is just like us? “

“And so, I was exiled from the sun of his presence, just like you were, with no trial, no hearing, not even a reason why…perhaps you know something of the loneliness of a woman scorned, yes? Let me tell you this – it is only the beginning; you will have an eternity of nights alone, your arms empty, your heart a barren desert with nothing to water it but your tears, and one day the tears dry and nothing, nothing ever fills the empty horizon in your soul. “

Zander’s hand gripped Tarja’s hand tightly under the table as if to say: _I’m here._

“And so we entered the dark of the soul, we entered separately yet together in the house of the prince of darkness. I bore it for my family’s sake; I kept the peace, I held my tongue so I did not shame my family. I tried to work treaties and alliances with offworlders, only to be stopped at every turn. So I took another tact; I waited. I gathered support, allies, money without him, and hoping to have all ready when the storm broke over our heads; I knew it would only be a matter of time before one of the corporations would try a coup and blame the other corporations for it – and what was my reward for all this careful planning for the defense of the empire? “

“ It was a woman! A wild creature with no subtlety, no connections, a desert nomad who not only disrupted the court, but my lord! He was besotted and ran after her even after she ran from the court twice, no less! He deserted his post, he hunted his piece of flesh in the desert and brought her back over his saddle like a gazelle after leaving me and his court to carry his load for over 8 days! That was the thing that broke us; a child came, which he made much over; I still held my tongue. I carried the burden of high court while he played at war with zanarkand, and passed laws restricting offworlders even further behind my back. The people cried to me for guidance; I was secretly asked to take leadership of the seat of the empire; He was useless as a leader. He kept on with his foolish dream of finding an offworld people that were like us; so we planned to depose him, let him leave gracefully, with honor, my lost love could pursue his life with his desert woman and child, just not as the head of the empire.”

“ I hated to do it, but I did what I had to do for the empire, but I failed. I failed my land, my peoples. I did not want to live with the shame, but in this desert, this land of red sand and blue sky, I found life. And like the woman sitting before me, all I want to do is return home. Serve my people with honor to the end of my days, but…I …cannot. “

‘ I see a woman before me with tremendous potential; you have already outstripped your pair; that is the real reason you were exiled from him; he was jealous, a weak sniveling prancing consort playing at being a shield guard; he is no leader of men, like his father. He is too passionate, too wild to lead with the cleverness and forethought of a true shield of the empire. I make you this offer: what if…you had the power to choose your own shield mate? What if you were the one to say how it goes, be able to choose your shield or sword, never forced by imperial edict? To be bound by a bond of love, not a bond of command? Do you know the power you could wield as the sword of an empire, an empire where an empress ruled with a just hand? You could be part of this ….even go home, young…human.”

“We leave at dawn. I’ll expect your answer then. You’ll have to say goodbye to your pretty boy, but I surmise it won’t be too difficult to declare to him later, once you have the empire at your feet – see? Even now he trembles at the thought of it. Now sleep. It will be a long ride tomorrow.”

Tarja rose and bowed, merely saying: “Djevon watch over you, lady.” and carefully backed out of the ruddy firelight with Zander in a handclasp tight enough to hurt.

In the dark she trembled, fiercely Held Zander to her and faintly said: “Oh! What madness this is! Hold me, Zander! I feel so…so…fouled!” “Let me cleanse you, come, let me give you a bath and we’ll just ride away tonight, before she murders us in our bed. No good came of playing with demons, and she’s the mother of all demons, girl!”

She allowed herself to be soothed with a warm bath as she thought; then she took a deep breath and started to explain her plan to Zander as he gently toweled her dry and oiled her skin. The golden brown hands paused more than once, but did not push her away. They held each other in the night, a frightened young man clinging to the rock of a woman he thought he’d never see alive again and a rock of a woman clinging to the last bit of love and comfort she knew she’d have before she died; in the morning, she irritated the small cavalcade , who impatiently waited on the road as she wheeled her horse back to violently, ruthlessly, kiss her pretty consort goodbye in the dust like they were the lovers Kwanshin and Hatishan.

Zander limped into the capital 2 ½ days later, having ridden nonstop from Hoseki; he groaned and swore he’d spend the entire evening in the bathhouse after his errand was done. Lord Seymour was astonished at a consort demanding to see him, but once he saw the tanto handed as identification, he was alert and dismissed his secretary to hear news of the little eagle. He had been upset with Tidus at first after he had heard the story behind her dismissal, but let it pass as he saw the young man’s face grow drawn as the search was unsuccessful. It was a harsh lesson, but Seymour knew once they were together again, he’d never let her go.

A dusty, tired Zander limped in, his thighs rubbed raw from is lack of time in the saddle and sighed in gratitude at the extra pillow put on the seat. He saw Seymour’s face lighten with relief then dissolve into serious stillness, the light blue eyes dilating in shock as he gave his story, holding nothing back, even the dreaded name Yu-Shinta. He was gently encouraged to stay in Seymour’s town house for the next day; the bath house girls had a chance to take a look at the famous Zander of the House of a 1,000 Doors, which was extremely gratifying in more ways than one; after a scented rubdown and a luxurious meal of fresh food,   he then told his story again in a room with a muslin panel; he was keenly aware of the presence behind the panel, and did his best to tell the message exactly as he was told, omitted many salacious details, then did his best to answer questions that tested his powers of observation: What inn did they eat at? Where was their room? How many in the cavalcade? What road? What type of harness, saddles did the horses have? What color were the horses? And so forth. He finished with the same thought Tarja and he had agreed on: The woman was insane, as she expected to try the same takeover of the throne again and get a different result. She had no idea of the real power and problems that alliances with offworlders would bring and they would take Akiro over her any day. He recalled Tarja’s exact words: “Seymour you were as a father to me, if nothing else, allow me this small final loyalty of love, despite the distance between us.”

He felt something of the same; despite Tidus acting like a haughty fool, emphasis on fool, he’d acidly been bold enough to comment, he’d seen too many offworlders on their worst side in temple bar and wanted to die free, not an employee of a faceless corporation. At least he was allowed to be Zander.

So, a consort and a maester began a relationship in the capital; it would have been a scandal, had anyone but the two had known of it. Zander received letters from Tarja, cleverly written as love letters; sometimes messages would be passed by temple monk to monk across the string of shrines and temples in the Eid, always with some symbol of a bee with a rose present, a subtle joke of sorts. She fed them information until they began to believe in her again. Despite running to Zander, the supposed rival of Tidus’ affections, she was trustworthy. They decided to let her keep supplying information and rescind the order to expel after New Year’s Day, ordering her back to the capital.

The day after the holiday, Tidus brought his team forward in a private demonstration of their sword work. They had practiced for 6 weeks straight with the new weapons and could do astonishing things with the steel: Seeing Tidus cut through a military issue katana like butter was a lesson not to be forgotten. When they were finished, Akiro and Seymour were stunned to find out that the little eagle had made the steel as a love-gift to Tidus and his team! Tidus slowly nodded and even more slowly said: “Father, there is…more.” He carefully led them to the common room, locked the doors and brought out the sketchbooks with weapons from Earth. They spent a good part of an hour just reading the notes, reverently handling the sheaves of paper as if they were written by Djevon himself.

The two old friends looked at each other across the table and realized Jingo’s words were horribly true: they had tried to make a sword into a shield; and then they threw her away, their deadliest weapon. Akiro decided to draw up a secret treaty with Earth, putting Tarja Romanova as the ambassador, then ordered Seymour to find a way to make a meeting happen.

Finally, a chance to meet came: Akiro took a cruise on a river with Seymour to a temple and a small skiff drew alongside an imperial barge and handed a bouquet of winter roses up; the stems were wrapped in a scroll from a riverside temple and they disembarked at sunset to meditate, leaving the guard on board except a trusted pair of guards at the doors. In the gloom, a nun slipped in and bowed, her prayer beads clicking in a pattern of sound. They turned at the repetitive pattern and a pair of mountain jade eyes peeped out from the veil and crinkled in recognition; she found herself holding Akiro’s hand and wetting it with tears of relief as she bowed. Seymour she simply looked at; the expression of a gratitude so pure and so filled with soulful expression nearly undid Seymour himself.

The sly old fox looked at his oldest friend and nodded; he began to speak, using the charm and force of his personality as leverage, though he knew she had done this of her free will; he was a leader, and he would use any means to get his people safe, no matter how unorthodox. It was that ability to think out of the box of laws of war that had made him shogun, then emperor. He full well knew the mistakes they had all made in assessing the human over the past 2 years, and shared the worry with Seymour that this one woman could upset the balance of power very easily, if she felt insulted by Spirea. In his eyes, she was still teetering in the balance; she obviously felt loyalty to him, not to a half-mad usurper, but he did not know where her loyalties laid as a separate species; after all she was like an offworld conglomerate, just a corporation of one.

“Lady, I wish to speak with you directly , and not only as a disbarred member of the imperial household…You are the only person from Earth we know of, Lady….therefore, we humbly ask your consideration to represent your Earth as ambassador. If you accept, then sign this document. We have much to discuss, but little time to do it in, so I will dispense with the protocol and ask: would you consider an alliance with Spirea?”

“Emperor Akiro, I am only one person from one country of Earth, do you understand if I say yes, but with reservations? I would leave some language in this that says you’ll be open to other Earth species, should they come here. There are six billion people on my planet and many countries. I can only represent the United States of America, and only until the president appoints his own ambassador to present to you. So…why do you need me as an ambassador? Is there something you want from me? ”

With a grin at the double meaning Akiro replied: ”I’ve seen your steel!”  

Eyes registered interest: “Ah. So the guard of the Shield has been outfitted at last. The process of forging carbon steel is so common on Earth, all you need to do is pay a standard fee for the use of the idea, called a patent. It’s no big secret, Akiro. But you will start a treasury account for it. I’d set aside about 10,000 in gold to buy the use of the idea from Earth, then make any forges or foundries pay a smaller fee for the right to use the process. Anything else?”

Stunned, they sat back as she handed them the biggest thing since the invention of the water wheel without even batting an eye. Akiro cleared his throat unsteadily, as it hit him Tarja was for real! _Djevon, we ARE the same inside! Bless you! I have an ally at last!_

“We’ve seen your sketchbook. We understand you have many ideas about how to conduct war and have things we’ve never even thought were important that somehow are important. The hard truth is…lady…the corporations are showing their teeth and I fear they will overrun us with their technology until we are nothing more than servants of the empire of corporate, than a free people. I have the bravest of hearts in my guard, but weapons? We are children with toys compared to some things that have been seen, or hinted at. You, your Earth, must have technology that will level the playing field, so to speak. I am asking if you have anything, any weapon, any support that will make the offworlders back down, I am prepared to do what I must to encourage you to consider using your influence as a power from Earth for our survival as a people.”

Tarja expelled her breath is a soft whew as she considered the implications of what Akiro was asking of her. Thankfully, there was no policy of noninterference she remembered from college and as she was the only human, she thought: _Hell, why not? It’s not like anyone has ever heard of Earth – they can’t find any gate even after two years of searching! Oh. My. God. That’s it. The gate. That’s the weakness. But I better keep my mouth shut until I can find a way to blow it._

“Emperor…Whatever I know is at your disposal. But please allow me to think through what I know carefully, as some things can be just as harmful to Spireans as well as offworlders. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes Earth has. And you must ensure any technology is pursued secretly. Surprise adds to the attack, as you well know, yes? I’d start with simply not buying the junk they sell you. And that’s what most of it is, junk…how many things have they provided to ease pain and suffering? Medicines? Surgical techniques? Improve quality of life? I bet I can give you electrical power in a year or two; did they? However, weapons…a huge difference exists. They use some things that are only theory in my world, like a plasma pulse rifle. Other things are common, like cannon. But I do see I have something they don’t, something I can possibly manufacture here without too much trouble. I will think it through and set you up with a defense as best as I can.”

She looked at them, now sharp-eyed. “I am going to ask you to think of a frightening idea: What if…the gate was shut? What happens?”

“They could still come, they have star maps…but…it would take them a voyage of years before they could get here. At least that’s what I overheard.”

“Then we work on shutting the gate…or make them think we can shut the gate. The cost of a voyage from Earth to the moon cost millions of gold pieces, Sire. They might not be so inclined to come if it’s too expensive. They may be more like merchants than warriors? You judge. You know them better. In the meantime, use my ideas from my sketchbook to prepare your men better. But don’t ever let them know you have it.”

Akiro sat back sweating slightly as the negotiation had been intense. He exulted in his mind that he had Earth technology! Now, he could proceed with the plan he and Seymour had concocted; he drew a breath before speaking and prayed to Djevon that his luck would hold, that he was not such a fool to throw away a treasure of this value twice in his life: “Lady, those words are as Djevon speaking to me – I am profoundly grateful you have come to us in our need and attempted to help the people of Spirea. Now, I must speak of matters nearer to the ground: we are prepared to re-instate you back into the guard of the empire, with as much honor as we can give you. The dismissal was a passionate mistake, and a harsh lesson for the issuer. If you accept, I would ask you for a duty beyond what a guard of the shield would do; in fact, I mean to name you the sword of the empire, my personal weapon. Seymour has graciously consented to set aside his claim – what say you, lady? “

“Have I not answered with my actions? What does my lord command of me?” she smiled at last.

“We cannot be divided as a people; a usurper divides loyalties; help me ensure the throne is not usurped, in fact I mean to give the world an example, If you get what I mean. Stay under Yu-shinta’s wing, plan the coup she desires with one of your weapons; but we will be waiting for her this time. The role is the agent with two faces and one heart; it is seldom attempted, as few have the cunning and strength of will to pursue the role with success. Once the coup is in action, we will let Yu-shinta think she has the upper hand; and that is the moment I ask you to show your true heart and smite her – Seymour, will you explain the law to her?”

“Lady, once the ruler of the empire is in a state of challenge, anyone can challenge…not just the challenger…and if they win, well…the empire has a new leader. If you can challenge Yu-Shinta, and If you win your duel, and hold the imperial katana in your hands, you are the emperor. Now…to add to this, a challenger can act as a proxy for someone else; it is an old trick in our art of war. However, we ask as a condition of your acceptance as the personal weapon of Akiro, that you act as proxy for Akiro.”

“I see…but what about Tid-..I mean, your shield? Won’t he challenge me, since he’s your son?”

“Lady, he may be my son, but he is the shield of the emperor first. He will do as I tell him to do; his loyalty is complete; he would even die if I bid him to for the good of the empire. Also you – if you are the sword, you must do as the emperor commands, too. And I say: The shield can be sacrificed if it means he is in the way of the challenge between you and Yu-Shinta. He is not my proxy; you are. ”

Tarja blinked and an overwhelming sense of fear filled her she realized exactly how ruthless Akiro was and how much he believed in the good of his people. She knew right then and there, she might win, but she would most likely die – Yu-shinta was a gifted swordswoman, and had the benefit of nearly 2 decades of experience. But she decided that the killing cut had already been dealt; Tidus had seen to that with unerring accuracy. She had heard there were 3 ladies competing for his attention already; she was long forgotten. She had no home to go back to. They didn’t even hint she could live in the capital again. Perhaps they expected her to die; it would tie up all their problems in a neat bundle; her eyes welled with silent despair as she realized she had been played by masters of duality on both sides of the fence, her days were now numbered. She clung to her sensei’s lesson to float until something to divide the current came along. So she made up her mind to do it, until the current changed.

Seymour saw something of the pain in her face and gently said:” Of course, when all is done, do you realize you may ask anything of us? I hope that you would come back to a welcoming home and grateful hearts; why not make the capital of Spirea your home? The Eid-alal is a beautiful meditation, but it is lonely, lady.” He hoped it was enough of a mental nudge to Akiro, he had suggested that Tidus be joined with Tarja to keep her loyalty; after all, before the dismissal, he had shown every evidence of a man besotted, not unlike his illustrious parent in days gone past. He knew Tidus would not be indifferent to his little eagle; no one else had ever given him any challenge like she did; they were a perfect match. All he had to do was get them in the same room together: _Would it were that the tie of joining was a steel shackle instead of mere rope for the pair!_ laughing at the mental picture presented.

Akiro took the nudge and slyly added: “A shield and sword joined at the foot of the throne would do much for the heart of the people, as well the heart of a lady who declared herself with elegance and sincerity; Heh! - Had I been 2 decades younger, my son would find himself in competition! – but seriously, if you wished it, I would give my blessing to the pair off.”

“I..I thank you for the compliment – but it is for him to say, not I.” She dryly added: “I thought he had stated his answer with eloquence already.”

“Nonsense. I suspect he has been spending his inheritance behind my back trying to hunt you down, he is that determined to tame you to his hand. Don’t be surprised if he tries to tether you with a child, woman. And he will do as I command.”

“I agree. We’ll discuss any rewards after we see how well I played your game. I’ll keep in touch. Now, I must return.” Then shyly, she caught at Seymour’s robe, like an anxious child: “Maester? Will you stay a moment to bless me?” Once Akiro was outside she directly said: ”I know my days are numbered. You need not lie. Just..Just tell him..I was true. I’ll always love him. When the time is right. Take my ashes to Mount Gazgaret. The little temple ruins at the top. And Seymour? It may seem little, but thank you for being my champion. It takes a bigger soul to not fight, I think.” She hugged him like a child, her voice cracking in a sob, then ran into the dark after the soft head was buried in his shoulder. Seymour softly held his hand to his mouth, then tightened in a spasm, so his keen of grief and fear would not disturb his oldest friend, patiently waiting outside the door. _Djevon, are you happy now? I just sent a heartbroken child into the jaws of a demon. Don’t ask anything more of me, I beg you._

 


	23. Chapter 23

Yu-shinta smiled at the nun tilting a cup of Aki like seasoned pro in the campfire and let her heart glow a moment at the success of Tarja’s negotiations. She had the support of half a dozen more families in the high court, she had just picked up the letters of support and treasury marques tonight. She walked over and held out a hand for a cup, idly playing with the nun’s veil that still sat on Tarja’s head. _By the god, she would reward her friend well!_ – And that is how she now thought of her human from earth; during the long winter in the Eid and journey north through the wilderness beyond the bluffs of the great river road, she had found a kindred spirit in Tarja; few of her company were able to keep up with her nimble turns of mind and her sword skills were quite sharp; patiently, she drew Tarja’s love story out of her and filled in the missing gaps in Tarja’s history; the bastard Tidus had kept the truths of Akiro’s infidelities from Tarja; and kept his own many lovers out of the way, so her eyes would not see the rotten egg she knew him as. He’d even claimed to be raped by a friend when he was 12, and she had fiercely questioned the woman, who steadfastly denied anything other than a thrashing to a rude, disobedient boy.

Tarja finally sobbed out her story one night, after the campfire had burned low; she laid her head on Yu-shinta’s shoulder and shook with silent tears at being judged and crucified without being able to defend her family’s good name, all she had in this world that was truly hers. Yu-shinta took her to her own bed that night, comforting the woman with all the things she had longed to hear herself when she had been locked out of the Eden of Akiro’s love without a by-your-leave so long ago. It fulfilled something herself; she in turn felt comforted that she could help another in such a deep despair. Tarja had wanted to die from the shame; in fact, they had to pull her from a freezing river in the first week, as she had been told the idle gossip at court, that Tidus had another lady in training in the guard; of course it was not true, but it had done its damage; Tarja had gone there to debate just throwing herself in and ending all the trouble, but as she turned away, deciding life was a better suitor, the bank had given way.

It was also the dark soul of night for Tidus too, but he had no river to throw himself into, unless one counted Aki. He had stayed blind drunk for two days after the failed search for his lady, but gave up drinking entirely after he threw up for a day after the binge. Djanis found him in the dojo one night, practicing with a ferocious intensity that dissolved into an exhausted collapse; Djanis had carried him back to his bed and brought Sanjina in and bolted the door as they both held him for a long night. They never said what had happened, but they both would look at each other with a certain stillness at the memory of Tidus shaking with wild weeping at his damned foolish pride and blind prejudices, culiminating with both of them pulling his tanto from his throat.

There was no woman that could please him at first; he would not abide the idea of any lady brought in to replace his little eagle; later he unbent and took a courtesan when out with his mates, but never the same one twice. He would wait until everyone had gone to bed, then would wrap himself in the worn wrinkled Obi before opening the sketchbook he had kept hidden under his mattress: Tarja had one just of him that clever Jingo had palmed it off to him before the rest of the team caught on; she had filled pages with his face and form, from glimpses of him at Seymour’s guest house to riding on his horse with Sora Hanta on his arm, to lying lazily , a jade cup in hand; there were erotic sketches too, exquisite memories of fire drawn with a tender frame of mind; he knew her heart after seeing these pictures and bitterly regretted the distance between them. He would trace the words she had written in her language and in Spirean on the pages: Prince of my heart Tidus. Beloved consort. Consort mine. My bastard of bastards. Then, the second to last page, a portrait drawn while he was sleeping were the words: I love you. Comforted, he would fall asleep and in the morning, he could function as a man with his friends and guardmates.

Tarja had no friends to speak of, unless Zander could be considered one; she played her part well, even pretending to be sneaking off to tryst with him when they were close enough to the capital one week. She was only teased by Yu-shinta, thankfully. Her name had been dragged through the mud in the capital and slung about like a curse at first, but as truths began to out, it divided the capital, like a reversed Romeo and Juliet story. The common folk pitied the couple and reminded each other that rue love never dies, holding their loved children a little closer; prayers for the star crossed couple began to be offered to Djevon and soon Djevon’s wrist was tied with enough blue threads to color the forearm blue from all the joining bracelets offered. Oddly, it was the aristocrats that became the feuding families, wrangling about the Spirean vs. non-Spirean rights, ultimately landing blows in between arguments in the genteel tea rooms of the mansions until tea was spilt and babies began to cry.

As the plan of the coup was finalized, Tarja spent much of her time alone and even when in company she was lonely; she was treated like a pariah more than once when Yu-shinta’s back was turned. Everything seemed fraught with meaning, as she realized that many things she did she was doing for the last time; she would encounter small stillnesses in her activities of daily living, finding herself turning an ordinary object, like a leaf or a pebble over and over again in her hands, as if to memorize its very feel. She wondered how she would die, imagining scenarios. Then she gave it up, and just drifted with the currents of the day, filling the endless minutes with nothing but endless waiting.

 


	24. Chapter 24

The spring rain began with a hissing whisper, drenching the brown grasses and dry leaves in the gutters, carrying away winter’s debris in cool chattering becks down the paved streets of the capital. The street traffic was almost non-existent in the imperial quarter when compared to the raucous mess in the southwest quarter, where all the seedier sides of life could be found; courtesans rode in tuktuks to assignations; aristocrats pursued kura-meis and drinking parties in the twelve block area, lined solid with inns, pavilions of flowers, playhouses, gambling halls and ringed with all the flotsam and jetsam of a society geared to pleasure at a price. Welcome to _Yorokobi no Jiin_ \- The Temple of Pleasure, Tarja wryly thought as she strode through the wet streets, unconsciously weaving through knots of foot traffic and jumping over puddles and runnels of cool rain in a fitful pattern. She eyed her path warily and kept her face hidden in her great-hooded waterproof cloak; it was cleverly woven at the temple of Djevon, which was famous for its grey-green camouflage weave that blended into almost any environment; if she remained still against a wall, she was lost to the eye. Discreet and unnoticed, she made her way to the Inn of the Last Toast.

The doormen at the Inn of the Last Toast were the best in town, and could not be bought for love or money, even by the imperial service; the Tong that ran the establishment spent lascivious amounts of money to keep its privacy, and paid generously to train its front men well. Tarja waited calmly as a pair of very drunk aristocrats was politely ejected; she turned her head so they would not recognize her, in case they were foolish enough to peer beneath the deep hood. She sidled up to the smaller of the two doormen at the east entrance and stood facing the street next to him, as if waiting for an escort inside. A moment passed as they eyed the hustle and flow of the street, feeling alert, both at home in this rough seedy environment.

“Hey, Eidiwa.” She quietly spoke. “Thee has room in the Inn tonight?”

The doorman kept a flat passive face as he replied: ”Only for babes and virgins.”

“Oh. A pity I’m neither. How about a thimble of Aki?”

“Aye, that we have, in plenty; go to the 3rd bar.”

She stepped up to the now-open door, a fume of steam, smoke and incense escaping from the red interior; as she stepped in she flirtatiously raised her hood a touch and let a mountain jade eye peep out as she brushed close to the brick wall of Eidiwa. He shut the door firmly behind her and turned back to the street, resuming his post. He grinned, eyes crinkling and face dimpling as he thought: “Eee! The little teacher herself!” as he fondly recalled the past winter’s lessons.

Tarja pushed her way through the throng of patrons gathered around the gambling tables and then through the 1st and 2nd bars until she reached the 3rd bar. She found the bartender and ordered: “Aki. The black. From Gazgaret, if you have it.” A thimble was poured; she downed it and leaned against the bar as the strong liquor coursed through her veins; the last time she’d drank Aki was so long ago; her face stilled as she plumbed the depths of memory she kept locked away in a deep abyss of her heart, remembering a beautiful face with wickedly sexy eyes and a soft voice urging her: _Go on, I dare you, see if_ _you can make him spill it…_

Having been cued by the drink order, the bartender spoke his password: “Perhaps you’d like to join a private tasting party? A gold piece will get you in the back door tonight, mistress.” She silently laid a gold piece on the counter and let herself in the door behind the bartender’s waving hand. A strong roll and clap of thunder from the spring storm made the 3rd bar patrons jump and several spilled their drinks as she looked back to check if anyone was following her. She smiled wryly again thinking: _I wonder if he’ll spill his wine tonight…._

 

Within a hour of Tarja’s quiet entry into the ‘tasting party’, the hands of coup, all stalwart souls loyal to Yu-Shinta’s cause, slogged through the steady spring rain towards the secret gate into the imperial palace; they met no opposition in the imperial quarter; the entire night guard had shown a silent measure of support, and quietly withdrew into their guardhouses as the group slipped by in their temple cloaks. Once in the imperial palace, they split up into groups; a pair of assassins were sent to relieve certain aristocrats of their heads, while three sets of three made their way to the armory, the stables, and guard’s quarters to seal the doors until the coup was successful. Other pairs were dispatched to gather key persons and herd them to the throne room, then seal the great doors, each the height of three men, with explosives if need be. The weakness of the great fortress was in the minds of its current strategist; of course they had men, arms, and even explosives, but foolishly kept them in centralized locations, with single points of entry; despite the great reinforced doors being strong enough to hold back normal explosives, they would not hold up to the planned attack.

The attack would be carried out in silence; everyone had been taught hand signals to prevent an alarm from being raised; grey facecloths in place, gloved hands rose and fell in the old way that said; _here, we_ _are ready!_ The will of the attack nodded, and the personal weapon of the will, taking her place as the hand of the coup, replied with the two gestures that said: _Go with Djevon, disperse as the flood._

In the blink of an eye, the alcove emptied and a team of five led the way for the will and hand of the coup into the fray. They stole along servant’s passageways and through priest’s flets, finally slipping through the strangely hollow imperial guard’s private hallway, strangely hollow, to the throne room. The doors were then set with the explosives that the hand of the attack had created and the wires with its ignition device was carefully handed to the will of the attack, now standing in front of the imperial throne itself. The five settled into a classic guard position, 2 in front, 2 behind and one at the guard’s door, with a second explosive, in case of failure. But they knew they wouldn’t fail. Even if they should not live the night, they knew the people were sick of the current state of affairs and would take matters into their own hands; in addition, the Emirate of Zanarkand held his regiments ready, always interested in carving a slice off the Eid-Alal desert peninsula for himself.

The throne room soon began to fill with the invited guests of the surprise party, then a bag was deposited at the foot of the throne as a gift for the guest of honor, whom came striding in, his face a snapping flame; Akiro was enraged that Yu-Shinta had used explosives in HIS palace; His personal shield guard Tidus was close to his right hand, and two guards stood behind him when he halted and surveyed the scene in the now smoky high court. The lady smiled from her perch on the throne, allowing only a small tinge of acid to bleed through and drip in her old liege lord’s ears.

“Akiro, you rule , but you do not reign. You have been poorly advised, and have ignored the needs of your people. Your foolishness has cost the empire its most valuable treasure – the goodwill of women, and especially the one who served you so well for thirteen years. “

“I have the goodwill of the people, Lady; it is you who has no goodwill left in your heart for me. I refuse to abdicate now, as I did the last time. I demand to see my emissaries!”

“Your emissaries? Oh. Here they are. Do you wish to listen to them? I can arrange it if desired. “

Akiro’s face became still as an immaculately shod foot lightly kicked the bag at the foot of the throne. The lady’s icy face allowed another small drip of thirteen year old venom to bleed through as her mouth quirked in the smallest smile.

“You want the throne now? Come take it from me if you dare. But I warn you that you will be cut, as I have a weapon so sharp, even Djevon himself would be cut should they meet!”

Tidus shut his eyes at the words thrown back in his face from so long ago. He remembered his playful quip, which had become the amused byword for Tarja in the court of heaven. Any enemy he could take on, but Tarja as an enemy? He felt the first tendril of fear sprout in his psyche as a slim figure detached itself from the guardians arranged in an immaculate grouping of protection around Yu-Shinta, the peerless bitch of the universe. He looked at Akiro, and Akiro grimly gave the slightest nod, then oddly held his eyes in the most intense gaze he’d ever felt; it was like Akiro was truly seeing him, his son for the first time and he was…..proud. Loving. Hopeful. The desert of Tidus’ heart filled with the deep well of emotion from Akiro; for once he knew without a doubt he was loved by his father, and he ferociously turned to his opponent.

They circled warily, just they did in the practice dojo so many thousands of practices before; but this was the real life, the world they lived in, not the playtime where everyone gets up, dusts themselves off and bows. One of them had to die. The first attack was to unbalance her mind, and he trilled like he was calling his pet eagle Sora Hanta to hand; he knew it always enraged her. But no, she was calm, her eyes never narrowing in that slightly disgusted look that always implied _idiot_ as they used to. Her rhythm changed, and he saw it was a break; he darted forward with a low sweep, seeking to break her step and throw her whole rhythm of attack off balance.

The touch of the blade galvanized him into action and he pressed her hard, his longer reach forcing her react faster and step ahead of his long strides; but her guard held rock solid without wavering. He stepped up the pacing steps and soon was driving her backwards in defense; then taking a page from her lesson book, he nimbly turned and used the wall of the room to gain leverage from above, throwing a hard overhand strike down on her blade, thinking the custom made 100 fold steel blade in his hand would shear through her plain katana; but oh no, he was wrong. Shocked, they all saw it held against a blow that would have sheared any normal steel. The blade in Tarja’s grip shivered and rang with a clear light ping when they finally separated, but her simple katana held. Again, she had been deceptively dual in nature – they had forgotten she had forged a full dozen blades, not just a single prototype!

She stopped the next stroke with a breathtakingly swift lock of her wrists. But she backed away, although it was the perfect opportunity to take his head off. She blocked every stroke that he gave her from that point onwards; the onlookers were stunned at her brilliance in the game of swords; they knew he was fighting with everything he had to reach her, but she never gave an inch to him.

She took 1st blood with the lightest of clips to his arm, much like a trainee is lessoned; he growled, breaking into a run at her quick as a viper; she dropped to her knees in her infamous move and became a mocking swirl of movement; a zinging miss sheared the air; a few strands of silky hair floated down into a blank spot on the mat; frustrated, he attacked again and again, his blade slicing into empty space, as his rhythm faltered. Too late, he grasped his misstep; her blade arced elegantly up out of nowhere, stopping at his neck and stayed there, bringing the duel to a halt.

A thin line of blood poured from the shallow cut as he realized he had lost the fight. She suddenly pulled the blade back and made to withdraw; she had only intended to defeat the personal shield guard of the emperor.

He was quick enough this time to use his opportunity; with a swift backhanded pull, the short blade of his tanto sliced the air between their bodies, seeking to drive home point first into her flank. A mirrored move with her katana drove into his arm, impaling the limb; the tanto dropped as his nerves tried to engage cut muscle, sending a thousand shards of white hot pain to his awareness.

The rage on her face visible to all, she ran two steps forward, her shoulder landing with a resounding thud in his chest; she kept running, the force of her move carried him along with her, now spitted on the reddened steel; forcefully she drove the blade into the wall behind him, pinning him in a bizarre one armed crucifixion. Helpless, he defiantly spat in her face, then whitened at the change in her expression that said: _Oh, really?_ Too late, he realized he had only incited, _invited_ her total attention.

Tarja now became the dominant in the duel; she had him, the shield of the empire strung up and ready to be carved to bits at her leisure and the room knew it. Breathlessly they waited to see how she’d respond to the insult. She softly slipped a hand behind his head and grabbed a handful of glossy gold, jerking his head back up to look at her when he refused to raise his head. With a undefinable, almost tender expression softening her keenly cut face, she looked him in the eye for a blazing three seconds of eternity, then shoved the last six inches of blade through his flesh up to the hilt, with a swift, hard, deliberate twist at the end, turning the blade in the wound.

Tidus gasped, then screamed as the exquisite pain sung through him; he’d never felt pain like this before and darkness bloomed in his eyes for long seconds, until the pain subsided into a burning ache. Drawing a shaking breath, it shocked him that he still lived. He never knew she had it in her to be so utterly ruthless; in all the intimacies they’d shared, this one scenario he never imagined. Now, he was intimate with her as her enemy. Yu-Shinta’s worst killing rages were nothing but dull red lava to this white hot anger she had poured over him.

The witnesses to the duel did not step in or stop her; the men were impassive, simply waiting for one of the pair to die, as the law gave permission. The women of the coup all wore cruel flat faces, their dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction at seeing one of them make a fine example of how not to cross a woman. They felt sure the mistake of making your sword into a shield was a lesson none would never forget.

Tarja drew her tanto, bringing the flickering silver underneath his chin, the point pressing into the soft spot where a single stroke would enter the brain if one had the strength. Tidus did not doubt she had the strength; everything was so clear as he saw the last moments of life ending here and now. He ceased to struggle, accepting he had lost. “Go on” he gently bade her, his cobalt eyes now clear as the bright blue of heaven, the son of his father. He was still his son and knew was loved. He could die honorably for his sake.

“Go on? Why? You think you’ll leave this life so easily, with your honor? No. You will have to live with the shame. This I give you, Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii. The gift you gave me, returned with all the equality I can find.”

She savagely cut the silk cord around his neck, the fragile jade pendant of the imperial shield sigil shattering as it hit the floor. Her revenge was complete. Then as carefully as a master dominant puts away an instrument of pain that is pleasure, Tarja slipped the worn sheath of the tanto back into his Obi, and calmly took a step away with the slow confidence of a demon…or a man in woman’s form.

Into the vast silence of the room, Yu-Shinta demanded: “Finish it!”

“ ** _Finish it_**!” she orders again.

Tarja’s head swiveled from ostensibly admiring her work and fixed a heartless blue jade eye on Yu-Shinta’s now spiteful face. Then she arched a brow sarcastically replying: “Oh? I’m deaf?”

“Be damned, woman - kill the bastard! Isn’t that what you lived for? “

Turning her cool stare back on her work she softly replied: “Oh, yes, lady. I lived for this moment.”

Tarja stepped close again, now placing a hand on the Wakazashi short sword in his belt, her eyes now steady on his; her face softened and her eyes now had the look of a man who is about to be executed, tears welling with an unspoken tenderness blooming in her expression and stunned, Tidus saw her raise her hand to his face and travel in the exact arc of his signature untouchable caress. The intimate gesture sank home in his mind; his body’s pain receded as a new pain welled in his heart; he was at the end of his life, and he had never expressed one thing his heart knew of her. _Too late, heart…I regret … everything I have done and not done… this…battle between us is really about wanting more , wanting to be something nobler, higher, and yet somehow we ended up giving less…nothing on my part….we both had heard but not listened. I admit my responsibility for failing your divine command to love each other with all our hearts - if only we could have trusted each other to love completely, we might have discovered each other’s true being; I might have reached her heaven, her Eden…I love her. I’m going to die before I can tell her._

His eyes sought hers at last, all pain forgotten for a nanosecond as he hoarsely whispered “Do it, my …love.” Pain flooded back in a singing chorus as he lifted his free hand, tried to caress her face in return but the hand shook with pain; panting, he fumbled his way to his Obi, finally placing his tremoring hand on hers, wrapping their fingers together securely around the hilt in a silent plea: _Be my second._ Oddly, he felt her hand reverse the grip on the hilt and his mind screamed: _What are you DOING, washiita!!???_

Shocked he saw her swiftly pull the blade from its scabbard, turning to a vulture-like Yu-Shinta hovering behind Tarja, her leather armor now gaping open with a wide shallow cut from the wicked short sword. Tarja darted forward, picking up Tidus’ dropped katana, spun and let the wicked 100 folded steel bite Yu-Shinta’s katana, drawing sparks as the blades scraped in their respective positions.

Each stepped back, with the coup party wasting no time surrounding the opponents with a ring of witnesses, as custom demanded. Yu-Shinta now felt the ground open up beneath her feet and fall away; she had taken for granted that Tarja was just like any other Spirean woman, a fatal flaw in her plan. She never accounted Tarja capable of any bond of loyalty to men, much less love. She had foolishly thought since she was trained by the palace, Tarja would feel no differently than any other woman of rank in the kingdom: _I should have known when she didn’t take his head; I thought she was bloodthirsty, a hunter playing with her prey…you betrayed me, woman. And all for love of that…that bastard!_

“Do you challenge?”

Tarja grimly nodded yes.

Yu-Shinta wasted no time in drawing her katana and leading an attack. The deposed empress was widely known as a true talent with her sword work, a cunning and deceptive adversary, but Tarja was a wise opponent and let Yu-Shinta lead attacks to her hearts’ content until she was tired; then she began to press her, the wrists flexing like steel as they blocked and parried time after time; then as the pair broke in a second running attack at each other, Tarja ‘s blade flickered up, circled and reversed down as she ran past her opponent. Yushinta stopped after her turn and her face was suddenly still; a runnel of dark red blood made her immaculate tabi and sandals bloom with a more intense red. “Ah…I see why you are named a weapon sharp enough to cut Djevon. “ she breathed.

“First blood” the temple master firmly called from a distance.

She stepped forward again and their blades met in a furious spat; a golden sleeve also bloomed with red; “Second blood” rang out in an iron voice in the shimmering summer air. Yu-Shinta broke away, breathing hard; Tarja also was breathing hard, sweat rolling off her arms and face, but kept in position, never relaxing her guard; Yu-Shinta tried once again to break Tarja’s guard; the little eagle held it, responding to the brilliant play of sword strokes delivered with all the cunning a 45 year old assassin could deliver with a depth of skill that made the onlookers gasp; Tarja blocked every stroke, no matter where it fell or what direction Yu-Shinta tried; the deadly beauty had become a meditation of movement, the true mistress of the duel unfolding before their eyes; it had taken this extreme attack to show them all the true talent she had in the blade and they were shocked, envious, and awed at the swordsmanship.

Akiro drew up proudly, as he saw his plan was working: his secret weapon was on fire! _Love is more powerful a motivation than fear, Yu-Shinta!_ He fiercely thought and stole a glance around the room, everyone gaping open-mouthed as it sank in Tarja had taken on the most difficult role in the arsenal of the emperor’s personal weapon: that of the agent with two faces and one heart.

They paused momentarily , both now pushed to their limits and trembling from the sustained exertion. Yu-Shinta nearly fell kicking off her shoes slicked with her blood, and a nauseating weakness flowed through her body as she commanded her failing body to obey her and keep standing upright. Tarja’s face was white at the blood flowing from her opponent’s wounds; _I didn’t want it to be like this for you, friend; please, please give in!_

Yu-Shinta grinned across the distance; her eyes held the knowledge she was near her last moments in life. Her face softened for a bare second, a memory of the charming aristocrat she once was, then the prideful mask dropped back into place and she said: ”I’m ready to meet Djevon, weapon; are you ready for this last task?” _Do you love me enough to be my second, friend?_ Her eyes asked across the distance of two sword lengths.

Tarja nodded in understanding, but tears rose in her eyes spilling onto her cheeks in silver runnels as she raised her blade and waited for the last attack; she swept Yu-shinta’s blade and simply completed the thrust, piercing through the liver; as the female in gold collapsed against her, Tarja wrapped a hand around the skull of her enemy and suddenly pulled her face close, fiercely kissing the white mouth. Yu-shinta’s life left her body, the proud head falling on Tarja’s shoulder; she lowered the body onto the ground, nearly collapsing herself in shock, her brain flooding with hard truth she’d killed the only friend she’d had in exile. In the stillness, she quietly knelt and bowed her head to the floor by Yu-Shinta, quietly sobbing a single harsh cracked note into the bloody mat, as she too had been dealt a killing cut. Then composing herself with an iron will she didn’t feel anymore, she rose and shook the blood off the blade, sheathing Tidus’ katana in her scabbard, flipping it over her shoulder as she always did.

Tarja carefully picked up the imperial katana from the purple cushion and regally sat upon the throne with an unconscious arrogance Akiro secretly applauded in his mind, his glance keen. She held the precious golden scabbard in her hands and slid it in her Obi next to her tanto, as she symbolically girt herself in the authority of the empire. She firmly spoke: “ I am Tarja Romanova, I claim the throne today in the name of Akiro as his personal weapon and have delivered justice to the usurper Empress Yu-Shinta Yamashita Ishii for the crime of high treason against Akiro Ishii, and also the attempted murder of the imperial son regent elect Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii. I call upon the Temple Masters to witness this event and to accept the imperial sigil to be held until Akiro can claim it himself. If any have dispute with my claim, come forward and be tested by my metal. “

The silence was frightening, as all came to the conclusion the phrase Tidus had coined rang uncomfortably true. Seymour was the first to gather courage to speak, then smoothly filling in the gap, he spoke his acceptance of the imperial sigil, bowing deeply at Tarja as if she were Akiro himself.

“Get the regent medical attention, NOW!” was her first command. Turning to Seymour she quietly stated: ” You may arrest me and bring any charges you see fit, but I remind you the will of the coup demanded death; as you see, I chose to hold my hand and injure, not maim or kill.”

“Lady, you have done this act performing as the servant of the empire; according to law, your actions are sacrosanct. I will ensure you have legal counsel.”

_It is done. I live. He lives. Just hold on a little longer, wait for Akiro, heart. Then you can drift._ She tilted her chin up and sat a little straighter as the imperial family rose in groups and bowed to Tarja in acceptance of her statement. The court followed suit, slowly gaining its confidence back, as a buzz of gossip, calls and a bustle of movement began to fill the high court.

Guards had run forward to tend to Tidus, holding him fast as the grizzled veteran Akana carefully pulled the blade out; it was a clean puncture, but began to bleed again once the blade was clear, so others rushed forward with cloth torn from kimono and gi to stanch the wound; he was able to walk off the dais with Akana holding him tenderly. They all knew he had given his best and the proud light that had ignited in Akana’s face was passed to every man in the guard as Tidus slowly limped off. Some began to clear the dais and a team of three lifted the body of Yu-Shinta off the ground, but left her face uncovered like a common criminal. Imperious, Tarja called out from her perch: ”Stop! Treat her with the utmost respect! She was the second worthiest opponent I have had in my life! I command as the mouth of Akiro she be given last rites according to her status and returned to her home.”

_Who was the first? In all the seven lands, who could be worse than Yu-Shinta?_ Akiro thought as he walked away with Seymour, after seeing his matchless son carefully freed from the crucifix of steel _. Eh, clever woman. She planned it all along – that was a clean thrust! She planned to spare his life, despite my order to sacrifice him if need be...but then, she always knew he was the heart of my heart. I could give her anything she wanted in my empire for that…she spoke like a queen. Djevon, what have I missed?_


	25. Chapter 25

Tarja patiently waited until the room was fairly well cleared before coming down from her perch; at once, every man near ran to her kneeling as if she were the empress then holding a hand up to offer as an escort to wherever she chose. She realized slowly that she had nowhere to go, or no one to see; no one in the court had stayed to guide her. _Still the same old story- still the Gai-jin,_ she wryly thought. She recognized Jingo’s wizened face kneeling three men away and she quietly asked him if there was any room where she could at least clean herself, as she was splashed with blood and she was soaked with sweat and dirt from the exertion of two duels back to back. In a blink of an eye she went from invisible to the center of their world. Jingo laid a whiplash of command across their backs; one got up and ran, asking her to wait a few minutes. Proudly, Jingo began snapping orders to find water, towels and a doctor to examine her for injury, addressing her as the Lady Tarja-san noh-Koe Ishii, indicating her status as the voice of Ishii, then anxiously asking if she needed immediate treatment for any wounds. He then gently offered his arm to escort her to a regular seat near a window. He was enthralled that she held his glance: “Oh Lady…I am so unworthy of what you have done…but I am glad it was done. Please allow a fool to serve you for a little while?” Battle-weary, she nodded and laid a hand on his cheek. “Yes. Why not a fool? As you see, even the wise men have deserted me. “ Then shyly: “ I missed you.” The young duke of the Asana province caught her hand to his forehead, knelt at her feet and then directed everyone to his bidding as he quietly looked up with a glint of total respect in his eyes.

The other man returned with Nakita, the bath house maid and she nearly burst with pride at seeing Tarja alive and being chosen to help her. After fiercely grabbing Tarja’s hands and kissing them, she took charge of Tarja, and had her installed in a guestroom meant for visiting dignitaries, where she lorded it over a full complement of servants, bullying them into a multitude of tasks and began to transform Tarja into a woman fit to be the voice of the emperor. She had the wisdom to install two guards at the door, turning away anyone, except the temple masters and trusted servants as he knew her mistress’ mood; she was secretly anticipating a very exciting, romantic evening for Tarja, who was simply now a legend in the making before her eyes. There was just no way Tidus was going to be able to keep his feelings hidden any longer after this! She had gleefully overheard the temple masters instructing her lady on the protocol of handing over the imperial katana to Akiro and the invitation to wait upon the emperor’s wish to display his ‘great pleasure at the servant of the empire’ during the evening and it was hinted the reward would be great.

After they left, Tarja looked in the mirror, her eyes blank, feeling more than ever she was fading away into nothing, like a ghost. Her purpose of weapon had been fulfilled; she knew Akiro would come to claim his throne, and Tidus would be there also; she had been told his arm had been treated by a surgeon and it would heal well, provided he rested it. His manservant did his best to sidestep Nakita, but she firmly blocked his attempts to see how the lady did, but not before she teasingly caressed his charming face and advised him she was sure the lady was eager to see her guardian partner and friend, as there was much to say that should be said, but NOT in full view of the court. She suggested he simply arrange an assignation for the pair and suggested the temple in the morning would be perfect. Relieved from the burden of politely begging for her time tonight, he kissed Nakita’s fingertips and departed.

Tarja debated for an entire 15 seconds between wearing a kimono as a lady of court or her usual hakama, but decided on the hakama. Dressing for a romantic assignation it was not, despite Nakita’s broadest hints that every single man at court would be at her feet tonight, especially one who had reason to be grateful he was alive. _Besides,_ she dully thought, _who was there to wear a kimono for? Not Tidus._ He would return and serve the court of his father. He had been brave, clever and noble, despite his misjudgement about her. He had not asked that she be killed, but only sent away from the guard. She could ask no more. She told herself she wanted no more and had another servant run a pack and saddleroll down to the stables, figuring on quietly taking a ride the next morning and keep riding until the red sands of the Eid were under the horse’s hooves.

But feathers of memory kept floating up to tickle against her will; the shaking caress of her face, the tender grasp of his hand, and his mouth forming the words ‘my love’ refused to disperse, no matter how hard she tried to blow them away.

Emotionally overwrought and now confused, she allowed herself to lay her head on Nakita’s shoulder and weep for an entire 10 minutes in the bath house when she was finally left alone to prepare for the next series of events; Nakita held her, thinking: _Ah, my little eagle has been through so much! She needs the loving touch of a man to heal her from all this war-play. I hope Tidus says something tonight to her; he’d better find a way to offer himself, or I’ll make sure he never is allowed in my bath house again, ever!_

After the tears were spent, Tarja let her new personal maid fuss and preen her for the imperial event to her heart’s content. Nakita thought white suitable, sending the servants to the second level of the palace twice, sending them hunting for the finest silks and subtlest brocades in the imperial wardrobes; a delicious white on white silk Gi embroidered with eagles was carefully wrapped over the sheerest silk under gi, a sending subtly sexual signal that a woman resided with the man’s dress. The hakama was a slightly darker shade of pale, with the imperial sigil embroidered on the hem of the left leg; an Obi sewn with a random sprinkle of cut brillants, flashing like tiny diamonds drew the eye to a tiny waist and the perfect curve of breasts under the gi; Palest grey sharkskin thonged sandals completed the vision of pure beauty showing off a dainty foot, the nails burnished in a pearl lacquer. Brushing her hair until it shone, Nakita added delicate touches of ornamentation to further remind the court Tarja was a lady , gently gathering the mass loosely back with a tie of tasseled silk and a single white lotus was left to peep out under an ear, its scent perceptible from 3 feet away.

The ceremony went perfectly; she looked never more like a matchless beauty; the court all bowed like she was the empress; the ceremony of handing sigil and throne over to the true lord was a shining moment of memory, but it was like she was seeing it from a distance; she felt totally disconnected from the sea of people lining the hall, the hands that kept touching her like a holy statue; she was pinned in her own crucifixion against the gaze of a thousand eyes looking at her like she was the peerless goddess Inanna. It was exquisite pain, a pain that kept slowly building as the evening unfolded until she was ready to choke.

The color of pain was the blue of Tidus’ eyes for Tarja; Tidus looked up from his regal bow, fixing his gaze on her face in silence; it was too much to see him like this, a man who gave his all to defeating his enemy, only to be spitted by his own dual faced guard and lover, no, ex-lover, then bowing to her like he was a mere consort instead of the imperial son of Akiro, the captain of the shield guard. There was no trace of the haughtiness of his former self in his face or bearing; she didn’t realize how much of that unconscious pride of self she had equated with his personality; now he seemed a flat image, a picture, a…puppet. He kept gazing at her in such a direct fashion, never moving a muscle from his kneeling position until she herself lifted a hand in the signal to disperse...like he was…waiting for something. She began to think maybe she should have killed him, he’d have died a hero, instead of a living imperial puppet she had just made him into. But despite the distance between them at the high table, she felt his gaze on her the entire time; every time she looked up or away from the lower floor of the court celebrating the victory against the attempted coup, that steady cobalt gaze was upon her.

Of course, some the aristocrats had noticed it andsmiled to themselves, as they saw a far different view of the pair; Tidus was waiting for the lady to formally declare herself; she had proven herself in battle, she had not only cleverly spared his life, she had just handed him the imperial seat on the tip of her blade, a mark of the highest favor! It was only right he should wait upon her word; of course he wanted her, in fact they were sure he was nearly faint from the desire of her; it was a romantic legend in the making.

Others had a different view; they recalled the bruised face, and the harsh way Tidus had thrown her out of the guard over an imagined tryst with a temple bar consort, giving her no chance to defend her honor or name; it did not matter she was not Spirean; she was a woman, and damned fine one; the imperial guard had done her wrong there, they had entirely underestimated her potential and knew that Tidus was feeling a fool for trying to make a woman fit to be the sword of his empire into a mere guard of the shield. She had been insulted in the worst way, deserved better and was right to ignore his gaze, no matter how deep the desire in those bluer than blue eyes.

And so the whispered battles went behind feathered fans and jade goblets; but as the truth always is, it was something of both and neither.

The trouble with Tarja was that she had never really envisioned herself living through the duel and the unreality of being alive began to bend her mind somewhat; she slipped back into the waking dream state that had overtaken her the past 3 days, that queer feeling like she had already died; it was only a ghost attending the fine celebration laid before her in glittering gold and in her post-battle stressed mind she began to half believe she really was a walking dead woman.

She choked on the food she was eating, and carefully setting her chopsticks down, she rose; everyone was laughing, chattering happily, toasting each other with jade cups of wine; no one was toasting with her or even talking with her; she walked into the center of the dining room and stood there; no one looked at her, or spoke to her. She something break inside her mind: _It is as if I were already dead…_ She turned back to look at the scene on the dais and saw Akiro happily touching Tidus’ arm and the steady gaze warming in the sunshine of Akiro’s proud smile. Akiro’s gaze swept the room; it did not change expression at seeing her there in the middle of the room , a ghost in a white hakama. She was invisible. Tarja Romanova was no more. The transformation was complete.

She drifted to the doors, the noise washing over her in waves; her hand pushed the gold netted curtains aside , reached for the handle and turned; the door swung open, beckoning her into welcome darkness.

Akiro’s voice cut through the soft waves of noise like a blade dipped in icewater : ”Where are you going , weapon? I have not dismissed you from me yet!”

_I was almost free –_ Sighing, she gave him the last courtesy of an answer. She turned, her empty face and dead eyes gazing past his shoulder at the wall: “I thought you had no further use for me, emperor.”

A cold fear washed over Akiro as he recognized the look; she was lost in her mind, adrift with no one to anchor to and bring her back. She had played the part of a double agent, the strain of the role with the back to back duels had made her lose her sense of what was real. Desperate, he gambled with firmness and strength to reel her back in.

“Oh? Court, do you hear her? She thinks she will be propped up in the corner like a broken blade that has rusted or hung on the wall only to be brought out in a moment of show on parade days!”

“No, you are NOT excused tonight, nor any other night, mistress weapon. I need my sword just as much as I need my shield here!” Nodding and placing his hand on Tidus’ knee, he playfully commanded: ” If you try to leave without being given leave to be excused, I will consider it an act of treason and have you tethered by my shield’s side, never to leave and see the open air again! Do you understand me?”

Curiously, she shrugged, then continued to step through the door, until the guard outside blocked her exit. She halted, her back to the emperor in a small insult, as if he had no say in the matter. Akiro tried praise to hook her interest.

“This a curious state of affairs – here, I have a weapon who has performed with the highest degree of loyalty, like that of mine own blood, delivered mine son from death, upends mine greatest enemy’s plans with such cunning and deception we have not seen since Lady Seymour’s day and delivers the head of mine enemy in a single fight without dying herself! Do you think me blind? I am the emperor, I see all, even what is beneath my very nose!”

“And my nose smells something is amiss; are you grieved because there is no more enemy to fight? Trust me little eagle, there are more, I will give you all you wish! ….Mistress weapon, now tell me something else: You said quite clearly today Yu-Shinta was your second greatest enemy…tell me , mistress weapon, where is the first enemy?” … _After battling Yu-Shinta, who on the seven continents could be your worst enemy, woman? Talk to me, yes, be distracted for a while; maybe I can bring her back in off the battlefield in her mind…_

“It’s...it’s a long story, sire.”

“We have all night! Come, regale me with the tale of your greatest enemy, lady! Sit! Pour wine to keep her throat wetted! I am most interested!” He turned and glanced at Seymour whom caught the concerned look behind the forced banter and carefully moved closer. Seymour subtly hand signaled the guard, and they politely herded Tarja back to the throne dais and was seated a mere six feet away from the throne, then a cup of wine was placed before her.

“So, tell me your tale – but name your greatest enemy!”

Tarja sighed, looked at the floor and then up again with the same empty face and hunted eyes. She looked straight into his dark eyes and shockingly announced: “ Tidus Tanaka noh-Ishii.”

“Oh? And what war waged between you two? “

“A battle of love, sire. But in fighting this battle, I have lost the war. I was too good at what I did, I have made him feel less than the man he truly is. I fought the battle of earning his trust with all my heart and yet, he sent me away.” Her voice rose in a trembling note, one that was instantly recognized by many ears; they too, had given their best efforts to serve the empire and understood how deeply it hurt to be sent away from all that you knew, all that you loved. She swallowed past the hard knot in her throat at the memory and softly continued:

“I regret… everything I have done and not done… this…battle between us is really about wanting more , wanting to be something nobler, higher, and yet somehow we ended up giving less…we both had been given a divine gift of each other and failed …miserably. I admit my responsibility for failing God in his command to love each other- if only we could have trusted each other to love completely, we might have discovered each other’s true being; I might have reached his heaven, his Eden…” she trailed off softly, then sighed as she continued, her eyes focused somewhere past Akiro’s shoulder.

“….But the hard truth is: I am just…a weapon. I am no longer…human…yet, I am not…Spirean. I no longer fit in the world came from, I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to!   Yet, I do not fit in this world; there is no room for consorts or wives in the guard, you are mates for life, as you must trust the one at your back with absolute certainty. Everything I have done has been for the love of him, yet it has not been enough to erase that I will always be neither Human nor Spirean. I have no trusted shoulder to lay my head on, there is no home to go to, no bright blue heaven; no garden of Eden…”

“There is a saying on my Earth: A man cannot serve two masters. Forgive me, but to be forced to stand next to your son after all …this...would be nothing but a mockery of the relationship between sword and shield. It would be too much to accept anything less what god tells me is right: There needs to be a bond of total love and total trust to make the partnership of sword and shield truly work.”

“ I may not be born royal, but I came from an honorable family; my father was a marine, an officer of rank; he always told me to obey and honor your leader, but love and honor your god more. “

“And I? I say: Tarja Romanova, personal weapon and servant of the empire of the son of heaven, cannot serve Akiro Ishii and God. I request to be excused. I cannot live with the dishonor.”

Akiro’s eyes were upon her, gleaming with interest, like he was seeing her for the first time. She knew Tidus was also staring, and but she kept her gaze steady upon Akiro, away from the scorch of the hot cobalt gaze, which recalled his own words to Djevon, an exact echo spoken in the same loving despair at his own failing. _Djevon, it’s true! You did answer my prayer! She was right, we were meant to meet! You can’t have gone to this much trouble only to let her die now! How hard can it be to stay together after all this?_

Akiro took his time, absorbing the first true indication of civilized train of thought he had heard from her lips; he thought: _Ehh! She is becoming more subtle every day! She can be pulled back to the present, her mind is not totally lost. This is not all battle stress. She has been torn in two in more than one way. Now, how do I manage this situation? She’s left me no option to let Tidus get close to her again! Djevon, how I can stop her seppuku?_

In a bold movement, He drew a precious object from his Obi, the last personal gift from Titania and threw the lovely carved object in front of her. He nodded at her, giving her permission. “If you still feel the same way tomorrow, by all means, die with honor, lady.”

Everyone on the dais was still, leaning forward in great breathless interest at the choice the human would take.

She slowly picked up the tanto and slipped the exquisite carved black jade sheath in her Obi. The gift from Tidus, the tanto with a cracked sigil of two feathers of blue mountain jade she withdrew; she gracefully walked upon her knees to Tidus and just as gently, laid at his feet. “I thank my lord for the gift, but I don’t think I’ll need this anymore.” She keep her gaze downcast, the dark fringe of lashes hiding what he wanted to see one last time; but no, his vain hope of turning her will from seppuku by the strength of his loving gaze crumbled to dust; she would not even look him in the eye, no matter how hard he stared. She turned to the cunning old lion on the throne and simply stated: ”I am ready. “

The lady drifted out of the court, her ears now hearing blissful silence instead of the pounding of the will of the Empire against her broken heart. Akiro stayed thoughtful; now that he had bought time, his mind worked furiously to plot a way to prevent the event from happening, but his train of thought was interrupted by the soft swish of silk robes. He raised his eyes to the people of his court and saw an odd sight: by ones and twos, women rose: they daintily stepped up from their pillows, set down serving trays, stepped out from behind screens, and folded fans; all turning to bow at the empty door that had swallowed a ghost of a guard in white.

It was a silent, yet explicit insult to the son of heaven. They left the court with not one look backwards at the foolish male children they had let play for too long in the affairs of women. A woman, a true woman, had spoken. They listened.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

The memory of her back receding , surrounded by a full escort of 6 guards burned into Tidus’ eyes; he turned to his father & raised his eyebrows: “Surely, you don’t mean to let her go through with it, she –“ Akiro cut his son off savagely : ”Why should you care? She is MY weapon, not yours – I will do with her as I please. “

Lady Akirawame struggled to her feet, her staff tapping the mat as she, too, started to walk away. Akiro rolled his eyes & sarcastically asked; “Just where do you think you’re going, lady?” _Do you really enjoy watching my kingdom crash & burn? Does watching the human die make your aristocratic Spirean heart satisfied?_

She turned back, her wrinkled eyes hooded, blandly answering: “ I’m going to temple, of course – This is the time we must show our trust in Djevon; perhaps tonight a _Human_ will die, but tomorrow a _Spirean_ may be born, son of my heart.” Her eyes gleamed in sudden amusement at the subtle emphasis she had put on the words as she turned back to the great doors, leaning on her lady-in-waiting Kiko-san and started to laugh, her cackle disappearing into the hall once she was out of earshot.

Akiro sat there, frowning for several moments, then looked out of the corner of his eye for any other defectors in his family, only to see Tidus’ face slowly light up & glow with an inner radiance that broke his heart, it was so like Titania’s.

Tidus leaned forward & gripped his father’s arm, and gently asked: “Father… _When_ are we born Spirean?” Akiro stared back, a slow gleam of the wily warrior appearing in his eyes at last. “Ah. Yes. Seymour?” He looked over  & Seymour a trace wily himself, charmingly smiled then simply said: ”It’s legal. Ironclad. Prima Carta. I’ll let the temple know.” As he rose & smoothly flowed away with a little spring in his step, Tidus called quietly: “Lord Seymour – Can you ask the monks to prepare for a joining ritual?”

Seymour stopped & his swung his calm gaze to meet Tidus, softening into an indulgent uncle, expression close & proud as Akiro’s was earlier at the sight of his son entering the throne room. His spiritual fight for the soul of his beloved friend’s son was done; now it was time for another’s to begin. Then he shifted that calm gaze to Akiro with a silent question, waiting for his approval of the pair off.

Akiro was silent, as he weighed the alliance with an entire world he had never seen & gambled, squarely placing his bet. He remembered he said he would bless the pair off, but had not counted on his son being eager for the match! Pleasantly surprised, he turned to his son to see his true mettle, composing his face into a severe mask.

Tidus’ face stayed firmly willful & did not cave in at his continued silence; instead of the 12 year old boy who lost his temper & ran from the battle of wills, he met Akiro square on with this: “ A joining with a _Spirean_ solves many things. You know what it will mean to have a sword  & shield paired at the throne of heaven, especially now. It will unite the capital. She gave us a weapon! And there is more, father: she has an arsenal, no, a whole world of weapons in her head that will keep the foot of the offworlders off our necks. None will forget the name of Ishii for being the servant of his people. “ Then passionately, the young princely heart beating with a thunder in his blood he declared: “I refuse to go on without her. She is my match in all things. I feel such love for her… Like you loved mother … father … _Danna_ , please…”

At hearing the boyish tender nickname , Akiro reached for his son & held his son’s face tenderly as he looked in the eyes of a man he had finally become, searching its lineaments for the memory of a passionate desert woman who had given him a worthy son. Then he very quietly replied: “Danna says yes.”

An enthusiastic kiss, the first since age 12, was brushed against his cheek & he sighed pleasurably. Tidus eagerly leapt up & caught up to Seymour, but not before Akiro firmly called out: “But your emperor commands: A full term of service from both of you before you even think of filling her belly!”

 

Tarja knelt in front of the great Djevon in the temple, the emperor’s tanto laid before her on a clean tatami. She quietly meditated on the actions of raising the tanto & slitting her own throat, then relived everything that had happened to her since she had arrived on Spirea. At times a smile lit her face; its contours became soft & hard by turns as memories washed over her at all she lived through on Spirea, slowly realizing she had changed deeply, somehow not stayed all human. She learned so much, especially about love. She paused as she heard the temple doors being opened. A pair of tiny, dainty figures came walking down to the dais before the altar where Tarja was kneeling.

Lady Kiko-san was carefully escorting an ancient forward through the soft dark, the mother of Akiro, no less. Tarja mentally shrugged & wondered if they simply were eager to see her blood or had been sent to ensure there was a witness.

“My lady wishes to sit with you tonight, Mistress Tarja-san; it is the custom if any woman of the imperial palace feels so shamed or dishonored as to wish to commit seppuku, the women of the court can come to show support of the claim of dishonor. Many times the show of the will of the women has overturned any shame or stain of dishonor. “

“It is no small thing to go against the will of the son of heaven, but your words ring as true in the heart of many of the women’s ears. “ _And finally, in a man’s!_ She waspishly thought; “You have said what has been left unsaid for too long: sword  & shield cannot work together unless there is a bond of love & trust. Too many times we have seen weapon & shield paired with no thought or care as to the rightness of the match; this may be a fine lesson in the art of power.”

“ And so, I wish to convey my deepest respect to you, if I may?” Tarja tersely nodded &Kiko-san continued, bowing deeply to the mat: “Mistress, thank you for all you have done.”

The crone nudged Kiko, & cackled in an echo of Akiro’s mellow voice: “Tell her.”

“The ancient wishes you to know the custom of things here & wishes to personally instruct you in the rite. All people in the empire have the right to end their lives _as they know it_ , when they reach the age of self-will, old age, or if they feel they are shamed or dishonored, where the life as they know it becomes meaningless. It is the greatest rite of passage for anyone to take & we greatly honor the courage it takes to stand, & make your line in the sand, so to speak. However, there are parts of the ritual I must insist you learn, so as not to dishonor yourself or your peoples. “

“The emperor has honored you with his own tanto, & it would be an insult to not use it. I will show you the place & technique that is traditional & with good reason. Your passing must be swift, prolonging it would make you no more than an animal in your final moments. You will need a second, & the lady has chosen me out of all the court to serve you. Please, please allow us to serve you. Seppuku is a difficult act, the pain is exquisite. Once you strike yourself, you will need a second to finish, as your body may not be able to control itself. It is only natural for the body to cling to life. A second makes the journey to Djevon swift & painless. I will also see your personal wishes are properly handled; have you made any arrangements? Ah. Good. We will see to it. All you need do is tell us, we will do as you ask, exactly so.”

Silence was Tarja’s comment; Kiko gazed at her, hoping the words gave the woman’s heart some ease. Kiko was secretly proud of her part; she knew it was history in the making. The dynamics of power between men & women, the offworlders & their empire was changing in her lifetime & she reveled in it. _Oh, thank Djevon, she chose this path! We may have a chance against the offworld corporations if we have a planet with weapons at our back. You’d better live, lady – do me this favor!_

She knelt by the ancient, gazed peacefully at the Djevon, & began reciting her sutras. After a while, another lady of the court came...then a family of 3 sisters, all assassins to the minister of the treasury. A group of guard’s wives, the courtesans, the bathhouse maids, whom came en masse; they loved a good drama more than plums. As the hours of night passed the temple became filled with women, the sisters, aunts, nieces, & cousins of Akiro’s family came & knelt by Tarja, all silently supporting her in decision to die versus live dishonored. Then the men came, filling the temple hall; Tidus & Akiro carefully came in, sitting directly behind Tarja, so she could not see they had come to watch her final moments as a Human from Earth.

The temple rang the great bell for the hour before sunrise; then as before, the dawn crept in on little cat feet; the bell tolled again, and Tarja thought she had never heard anything sound so sweetly. Remembering her lost home on Earth, her three years of life in this strange fantastic land, the love she gained & lost, she felt herself beat with the very pulse of life.

Kiko-san carefully took her position, the scrape of the katana could be heard through the temple, rising above the soft sighs & coos of the crowd in a discordant counterpoint of war in all the peace around them.

It was time, her feelings peaking with singing pain & pleasure of the last moments of her life. She quietly said: “ You know, all along I’ve thought god was in my heart, but now I see I truly was in the heart of god all along, just as the monk said.”

Then swiftly & surely, she pulled the tanto free of its black jade scabbard & forcefully brought it to her neck to sever the great artery. With a swift leap from her second’s position, Kiko grabbed the blade & wrested it from her; Tarja struggled to take it back, she was ready, she wanted to die; a swarm of women took hold of her, preventing her escape. Her eyes spilled over with tears as she realized she could not regain the knife; Kiko looked at the ancient & a look of complicity shone in their eyes. The ancient was helped up from her pillow; stepping closer to the woman held down by a dense weave of arms, the crone’s pleasing voice vibrated with intensity as she said: “Djevon has a message: Look in your heart – Is your old dishonored life truly dead now? Or was it a lesson, a sutra of love? A test of who you really are?”

The ancient scuttled forward until their eyes met; the warmth in her eyes overflowed into her very face & she simply said: “Well. Welcome to your new life, young…Spirean.” Cackling, she was led away, calling imperiously for the doors to be opened.

Dazed, Tarja shook her head & two silver tracks of tears ran down her face. Kiko bowed & quietly informed her: “Lady, Tarja Romanova the Human is dead; Tarja Romanova the Spirean has been born. She smiled softly & then asked: “Can you stand?” The mass of hands let go until two pairs were left to help her to stand; she took a few steps, then faltered & fell to her knees. Others ran to assist her up, but she violently shoved them away & stood again, she took a few more steps, then weak from kneeling all night & emotionally overwhelmed at being alive, she fell again, & again. Thus, she made her way to the great temple doors to greet the sunrise. She swayed in the lovely roseate light & dropped to her knees as the cramped muscles gave way. She kept her head up & took a breath of the sweetest air she had ever breathed; the cool air of dawn, lightly moist & under laid with the incense of the temple was savored with a ferocious intensity; The ancient laughed, remembering her own sweet breath after her ritual of seppuku at the tender age of 13.

Tarja gazed anew at the life around her, each little detail of the awakening temple impressing itself on her; Kiko-san’s almond eyes were so beautiful, so kind; Nakita’s indigo robe was stained wet on the left sleeve from tears; the temple monk’s chanted sutras rang with a loving intensity she’d never felt before; she was amazed at the flight of a pair of sparrows diving from the roof to the courtyard fountain in an exquisite joy, her heart soaring in joy just like the little messengers of heaven.

Seymour stood up & motioned for her to be brought back inside; Then with the spiritual authority of the temple, he informed her that she was no longer recognized as human in the eyes of the law or the people, she was Spirean. He stated she would be instructed on the role of a Spirean in the empire ; she could change her name, she could vote, serve in the guard, and was free to join. She, in turn, must honor the laws, customs & the god Djevon of the empire. The imperial seal was affixed to her legal document & placed in her hands. He warmly placed a hand on her head in blessing as a temple master, then turned her to the imperial family to make her bow to her emperor. She complied, somewhat stunned at the complete change in the people before her.

She saw they had simply waited for her to show them her will in what mattered to her most & they respected that, as they themselves had all gone through the same inner maturing, the revelation that sometimes you have to lose everything about yourself to find your way in life.

Seymour caught the look on Tidus’ face and steered her to Tidus; she bowed, holding it almost as long as she had held it for Akiro, wondering: _How will I face him? I just named him my enemy the last time I saw his face. Who is he now? Anything? Nothing? I am now naked as a newborn to him._

She rose from the bow, swallowed nervously, put on her warrior’s face & squarely steeled herself to meet his eyes , hanging on a heart attack in sheer nervousness. His face was still, but his eyes refused to relinquish hers as Seymour began to speak: “Lady Tarja, allow me to speak for the imperial son regent-elect Tidus Tanka noh-Ishii ; he wishes to address you directly & alone, and asks if you will be so kind as to understand the great honor he is about to confer upon you; in fact it is he who feels honored to offer you position in the imperial house, for the rest of your life, or until his life ends…and beyond, in Djevon’s blue heaven; it would be his eden, if you will accept him. “

Tidus laid his 100 fold katana in front of her & Seymour indicated she should do the same with the her katana they had stuck back in her Obi; he formally placed his katana in her Obi, leaning close; she caught him deliberately pausing, the hands almost caressing the sword & her waist under the Obi; then it was her turn; she was assaulted by the sheer presence of the man & her fingers shook, raising an appreciative titter from observers; she sat back & she floundered, deciding a formal thank you appropriate: ” Regent-elect Tidus-san Tanaka noh-Ishii, I am deeply honored. I look forward to serving you as part of the guard of shield again. Thank you for the honor, I will never forget it.”

“Well put & very kind of you to…offer… being in my guard again, Lady Tarja –san; but…I could not see anyone but you as the _sword_ to complement my _shield_ , especially after sacrificing so much of yourself to serve the empire. But that’ s not what is being asked of you right now. I see your Spirean still needs a little improvement; come closer & I will enlighten you further on what my imperial self is honoring you with.” Which was said with a lazy court drawl, a flash of his father’s wily amusement crossing his face.

She leaned forward & he quietly said: ”Running away again…Washiita? Afraid of my no? Or my yes? Allow me to translate Seymour’s court dialect: When my life ends & beyond means I refuse to be without you – in any way, shape or form. There’s a 1,000 ways to speak of love, but I am a man of action; let me show you; every day…& every night. Let me come to you; that moment of death stripped me of everything but one truth; Djevon ordained us not just to meet - Tarja, we are meant to be _together_. And lady? I...I give you control of how it goes with me.” The intense look was replaced by a charming smile as he leaned back, bringing her hand to his lips in a courtly gesture saying clearly to be heard by observers:”…and that, lady, is what it means; I have asked that you be joined with me – in the joining ritual.”

“Do you understand?” A nod. “Do you accept?” She dumbly nodded yes again. “Say ‘I accept’. That is enough for the witnesses.” “I accept.”

He looked over at the head monk & told him: “She has accepted me. I ask that the temple be witness to our joining.” The monks & everyone within earshot nodded, some smiling as they moved their hands into prayer position for the final chant, the soaring cadences of the most beautiful of the sutras: The Sutra Of The Heart. Tidus wickedly arched his brow & deliberately looked over at the imperial family as he calmly added:

“In the _old_ way.”

The monks gently smiled & quietly began to chant the sutra as they quietly moved into a ring around the altar, seating themselves for a long, long session of meditation on the love of Djevon, leaving the rest of the world to blush & be outraged at the imperial bastard Tidus, once again the capital’s scandal & secret delight.

_The heart is nothing_

_The heart is everything_

_The heart of the world is nothing_

_The heart of god is everything_

_Love Djevon with all your heart_

_Love Djevon with all your body_

_For you live & love in the heart of god_

A beautiful man led a lovely woman to the altar and looked at her, raising his hand, tracing an arc of an untouchable caress on her face; then silently, he waited for her, giving her the barest indication with his head towards her. She imitated his untouchable caress, slowly, puzzled. Cocking an eyebrow, he grasps her hands & pulls them to his Obi, and gently whispered: "Come on, be a proper bride? It’s just another kura-mei! You know, I've been trained in the art of love as well as war since age 13…."

"-And you know damned well you're going to get your way." She finishes for him.

_I was dying inside before I caught you on that cliff side & now, I am alive. And I've never had so much fun in all my life;_ he thinks with a wicked glint in his eye, slowly pulling at her Obi. _Now, let me tame you to my hand only, little eagle. I didn't mention what all that training was for, did I?_

Any eyes surreptitiously raised caught a breathtaking glimpse at a lean swordsman’s body honed to perfection, somehow made imperfectly perfect with a white bandage on his arm; they sucked in their breaths & irises suddenly dilated at the sight of a jewel of Djevon in male form; his shaggy head a halo of Spirean sun-gold, youthful shoulders filled out with muscle, tapering to an incredibly slim waist; & hips to faint with pleasure at, the golden honey skin stretched like a drum over the bones of the pelvic girdle.

Catching her breath, she finally caught what he was about; she looked in her heart & there was no hesitation, no fear, standing calmly until the heavy white silk garments were in a puddle around her feet.

Heart beating wildly, thinking: _Holy hell! I’m standing without a stitch of clothing on in front of a packed room_!, Tarja placed her hand on his shoulders with a calmness she did not feel in the least. He then tied their hands together in the florid clasp the joining ritual dictates  & together, they proceeded in the event with a scandalously admirable kura-mei , set to the heavenly chant until the room blanked out; no one else existed but the two of them; with steady courage, she met him move for move, his loving eyes keeping hers engaged to concentrate on the task at hand until their sacred duty was done; then they quietly parted only to dress, & shyly left the temple, to the praises of Djevon traditionally called out by the witnesses at a proper joining.

Of course, no one really understood why the symbolic tasseled rope of joining was a single length of worn wrinkled silk, but why ask? Bastards & lovers will do what they will.

** The End **

 

 

 


End file.
